


Oh my God, they were hallmates.

by Sunny_Beanz



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Laundry, M/M, University Shenanigans, some aren't, some international students are lonely, there will be multiple chapters hopefully
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26568085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunny_Beanz/pseuds/Sunny_Beanz
Summary: The problem with doing laundry in university accommodation, Nicolò muses as he shifts his blue plastic laundry basket ( thank you, IKEA ) a little higher onto his hip after feeling his fingers slip from the sheer weight of the pile of clothes contained therein, is that nobody ever remembers to take their wet clothes out of one of the machines when somebody else needs one.The other problem, of course, is that there only ever seems to be three working washing machines out of the ten provided.( Sunday updates! )
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 73
Kudos: 305





	1. Group chats are useful sometimes.

The problem with doing laundry in university accommodation, Nicolò muses as he shifts his blue plastic laundry basket ( thank you, IKEA ) a little higher onto his hip after feeling his fingers slip from the sheer weight of the pile of clothes contained therein, is that nobody ever remembers to take their wet clothes out of one of the machines when somebody else needs one. 

The other problem, of course, is that there only ever seems to be three working washing machines out of the ten provided. 

The dryer situation is even worse ( which is why he always skips that part and spreads his damp laundry throughout his bedroom to dry ) – and there are a hundred students in his accommodation block. His mother tells him that he could be proactive and wash his clothing in the sink, of course, but Nicolò is unconvinced that anything would actually get cleaned using that method ( and who wants to spend four hours trying to wash a sweatshirt in a tiny sink anyway? ).

The laundry room is clear of people and laundry bags tonight – it usually is on Sunday nights, most people having done their laundry on Friday night or Saturday so they can enjoy the festivities the Students' Union offers, or take the opportunity to get horrendously drunk in the city instead. Nico part-takes in neither, choosing instead to spend his weekend evenings curled up in his bed with the thickest socks his mother had packed for him and study his course material ( his sister often complains that he's living a monk's life instead of enjoying the opportunity of being away from their parents and in another country, but he tells her that they can't all be the family disappointment and she stops pestering him about it for a while ). 

It's a good job the university set up facebook groups for the accommodation blocks at the beginning of the semester. With a heavy sigh, Nico sets his laundry basket down and pulls his phone from his pocket, typing a brief message ( _'The laundry cycle on all three machines is finished. Could somebody please come for their things?'_ ) and posting it after double-checking with Google's translation app that it's all correct. 

There's an almost instantaneous flurry of responses from people Nicolò isn't familiar with, ranging from _lol_ to _icb nobody's fixed the other machines yet!!_ but the message that matters most ( _sorry! on my way :)_ ) is from the guy who lives in the room next to Nico's. They haven't really spoken much beyond casual greetings and smiles whenever fate decides that they should leave the building for classes or food at the same time, but the guy seems nice enough. He's quieter than some of the others on Nico's floor, anyway ( possibly because he's rarely in his room, preferring to spend most of his time in somebody else's ), and that's something the Italian student appreciates. 

They were also in the same international student orientation session at the beginning of the session, but Nico hasn't really had much to do with the other international students since then since they were split into ERASMUS and non-ERASMUS groups. There's only one other person from the ERASMUS group on his Philosophy and Religion course, and apparently they aren't here to make friends.

It takes less than three minutes for the guy to show up, breathless and flushing as he spills apologies in a voice laced with an indeterminable accent as he rushes over to one of the machines and haphazardly wrestles a load of damp clothing into the laundry bag that had been abandoned on top of the white unit. “It's okay,” Nico laughs, moving forward to help when half the clean load in the basket spills onto the dusty floor, “I'm not in a rush to go somewhere tonight.” Soon the guy's load is safely in the bag and Nico's able to dump his own clothing load into the machine along with a soap tab and some fabric conditioner things that look a little like candy pieces before he sets it going, creating an alarm on his phone a moment later so that he can pick it up on time and not be an inconvenience when somebody else wants to have clean clothes for their morning classes.

When he turns around to leave, the guy from before is still waiting, looking a little awkward with his laundry bag still in his hands. “I really am sorry about the machine,” He begins, shaking his head when Nico opens his mouth to say it doesn't matter, “Listen – the cycle takes an hour, right? What can you do in an hour that isn't going to be interrupted? You could come spend some time with me and a couple of friends – we were playing a game of UNO but with drinking rules added in, which is why I forgot about the machine in the first place, but it was fun and- and you should come too. If you like. It'd be good to get to know you better.”

“I don't- I don't drink.” It's Nicolò's turn to flush, having found himself shunned all too often by such a statement ( it seems that he's a rare breed, but besides his parents' rules against drinking, the thought of leaving himself vulnerable and liable to throw up everything in his stomach, drinking doesn't really appeal ). “Me neither,” The guy grins suddenly, all of his earlier awkwardness replaced by the sunny expression that makes Nico's heart skip several beats, “I've been doing shots of Fanta all evening. None of the others will mind, honestly, and it's just as funny to play sober.” 

“I don't even know your name.” Nico kicks himself immediately afterward – why is he trying to sabotage this offer of friendship? He doesn't know many people as it is – the one thing the ERASMUS program and its grants can't do is deliver automatic friendships upon arrival ( there had been a French girl Nico had been friendly with at the orientation session a couple of weeks ago, but apparently she'd been so overcome with homesickness that she'd dropped out and gone back home last week ). There are other ERASMUS students on his floor, he knows, but they're all on different courses and timetables and he really just wants to study so he can get good grades and show his parents that spending a year abroad wasn't a stupid decision. 

“Yusuf, but everybody calls me Joe.” Joe extends a hand to shake and Nico takes it automatically, his heart skipping more beats when their skin touches. Joe seems to be waiting for something, his hand still holding Nico's as his eyebrows raise, and the Italian student flushes bright red when he realises that he should probably share his name too. _Shit._ “Oh! Um- I'm Nicolò. Everybody shortens it to Nico.” 

“Nico.” Joe's grin broadens somehow as the syllables make a home for themselves in his mouth, a solar flare in the middle of the laundry room. “It's nice to meet you, but we really should get back to UNO. It'll be a miracle if the others haven't cheated yet and my cards are still where I hid them.”

\-----

It's not much of a trek back upstairs to Nico's room, though he lives on the third ( and top ) floor of the building and there's no elevator. Unlocking the door, he steps briefly inside to set the box of soap tabs and the jar of fabric conditioner pieces onto the edge of his desk, and when he turns back, he finds Joe has disappeared. There's a second when he thinks that's that, then and prepares to return to his previous plan of studying all evening, but then Joe's voice calls out from next door and Nico hurries to lock his door and linger in the doorway of the other student's room. 

“You can come in, if you want.” Joe sounds amused enough to send a hot flush down Nico's spine, but his feet move in response and he stands just inside the room's threshold, his attention fully captured by the sketch-filled papers covering every possible surface. “Wow-” Is all he can say, the word exhaled before he can force it back down, “Did you draw these?” Some of them are abstract and blockish, others are cartoons, words ( maybe jokes ) written in a couple of different languages that Nico can't decipher, but the ones his eyes are most drawn to are almost photographic; there are lots of pencil sketches of people ( some of whom look a lot like Joe, some of whom Nico recognises from the ERASMUS orientation session ), a couple of landscapes, even some animal sketches that look just about ready to jump off the page. 

“Yeah, I drew them all.” Joe murmurs from where he's come to stand beside Nicolò, and although there's nothing to suggest his mood has shifted, the Italian tastes a sudden sadness between them. “My family,” Joe gestures to a group of sketches that all show the same people but in different situations. “My parents, my older brother with his wife and kids, my older sister with her husband and their son, and my younger sisters.” Joe's gaze lingers for a moment before he gestures to another set, showing the more familiar faces. “The friends I was playing UNO with. We should go and join them now, here-” He presses a cold glass bottle into Nico's hand with a smile that holds less sunshine than his previous grins, but is still just as friendly, “Fanta for the game.”


	2. Drunk UNO with Fanta is still funny sober.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico meets The Gang.

The glass Fanta bottle in Nico's hand does little to cool the flush of heat that is determined to linger as long as he's in Joe's company. He _does_ manage to keep his legs still and steady as he waits for his neighbour to lock his door and lead the way to where the UNO group is waiting. It turns out that it's a room on the floor below, right next to the stairwell ( which is good, should Nico need to make a quick escape ).

Joe doesn't knock, just opens the door ( which holds a glittery paper sign with QUYNH emblazoned on it ) to reveal five people squeezed into the small room.

“Joe, Quynh looked at your cards.” A broad guy with an accent that is most _definitely_ French gives one of the girls sitting on the bed a teasing smirk from where he's sat on the room's desk, receiving a raised middle finger in immediate response. “Andy said you were going to lose anyway. You had a shit hand, _and_ you never play with any kind of strategy!” A second later, there are flying projectiles ( mostly snacks, though somebody tosses a packet of ballpoint pens too ) and yelled words from all angles – Nico barely has time to think _duck!_ to himself before Joe steps smoothly in front of him, effectively acting as a shield.

“It doesn't matter anyway,” Joe says cheerfully when the chaos has stopped, picking what looks like an M&M from his hair and popping it into his mouth “We've got a new player, so we'll start with new cards.” All eyes in the room immediately move to Nico, who flushes bright red and immediately forgets every single word of greeting in any language he's ever learned. _Great first impression, Nicolò._

“This is Nicolò.” Joe introduces him to the room, seemingly unphased by the similarities between the colour of the Italian's skin and that of a freshly boiled lobster. “Nicolò, this is Andy, Quynh, Sebastien, Nile and Lykon.”

“You brought the laundry guy back with you? _Joe._ ”

_Merciful God, please, strike me down-_ Nico prays as the older of the two girls on the bed admonishes Joe. He's seriously considering just bolting for the stairs; it's not like any of them could catch him if he _did_ , though Joe's closer than the rest of them _and_ he's still on his feet ( _and_ he knows where Nico's room is ).

“Yes, _Andromache_ , I did.” Joe's tone is still cheerful, but there's a thread of something harder ( almost something like a warning? ) underlining the words as the pack of ballpoints makes another appearance ( thankfully, he skilfully catches it before it can do any damage to the side of his head ). That tone keeps Nico's feet anchored in place for a moment longer – maybe he should hold off on making a quick escape for now ( maybe if he stays, he'll make some friends and his sister will finally lay off ). “He's in the room next to mine. It's about time we got to know each other properly outside of those stupid international student seminars, no?”

“I _knew_ I recognised you.” The guy on the desk has Nico pinned with pale eyes, making him want to pray for God's intervention once more. “You hit me in the face with that football while we were doing the introductions game.” There's a snort from the bed which sparks an explosion of laughter from the rest of the room's occupants as the French guy stares him down, lips curling upward at the very edges, and yep- Nico is back to begging God for an out; a sinkhole, an earthquake, sudden bolt of lighting, _anything_ to let him get out of this room-

Except Joe is giving Nico a grin that fills his stomach with warmth and makes him feel like he's looking directly into the sun – and there's a warm hand reaching to pat his shoulder that sends sparks up and down where Nico's spine resided until a couple of seconds ago. “It was an _excellent_ throw, and probably one a lot of people in that game wanted to make.”

Okay, maybe he wants to stick around a little longer.

“I _did_ call a warning before I threw the ball.” Nico feels emboldened enough to defend himself with a shrug, and Joe rewards him with a chuckle as he guides him over to sit on the bed with the bed, where there's more space than anywhere else in the room. Nico's heart feels like it might just explode out of his chest with the close proximity – their forearms are so close together, he can feel the heat radiating from Joe's skin when he tells Lykon to shuffle and deal a new hand of cards to everybody.

Holy Mary, mother of _God_.

“Drink?” A bottle appears on Nico's other side, but he shakes his head as a refusal and holds up the bottle of Fanta Joe had given him. “Don't drink, or just not tonight?” Andy questions, her tone still something Nico can't work out properly. “Don't drink.” The bottle disappears, replaced with a bag of something covered in chocolate. Nico happily takes a handful of _those_ , offering the bag to Joe when Andy makes a vague gesture. Joe, who's talking to Lykon as the guy shuffles the cards in his hand in a way that Nico has tried – and failed – to master over the years, refuses the snacks with a shake of his head, so Nico offers them to Nile instead.

“You're on the Philosophy and Religion Bachelors course, yes?” He asks, and she nods with slightly widened eyes. “I remember from the meeting. I'm on the Masters course, so if you ever want to discuss the course...” He shrugs, his offer tentatively laid out for her to either take or refuse. Her eyes light up, though, and she bobs her head in a quick nod, “I'll bring you coffee when we meet.”

Does this... count as friendship too? Already? If so, Nico's on a roll.

He's going to call his sister _tonight_ and tell her so she can stop teasing and picking and go back to worrying about her own relationships.

Joe passes him three lots of cards, two of which he hands to Andy and Quynh and the other he sorts into colours. “What are the rules? The drinking rules.” He's played UNO before ( it's one of those games the church doesn't regard as immoral or a path to a vice, so he's played it _a lot_ ) just... not the drinking version.

“One shot for a draw two and a skip card; two shots for a draw four and a reverse card; three shots for a false UNO, and the winner of the game gets to chose who takes three shots at the end.” Surprisingly, it's Sebastien who offers the answer – and the small plastic cups – though he's still watching Nico as if expecting the Italian to suddenly whip out another football to toss in his direction.

Actually playing the game is _hilarious_ – Nico's so glad that he's here to witness everything, _especially_ when he begins a _draw four_ train in the third game that ends with Sebastien picking up twelve cards and everybody having to down six shots in a row of their chosen drinks. Before his phone alarm goes off to remind him to rescue his laundry from the machine ( though all he wants to do is stay with this new group of friends ( they're _definitely_ friends by the time his hour is up ), Nico learns that they're all international students, but that only he, Andy, Booker and Lykon are on the ERASMUS program.

Both Quynh and Lykon are getting their PhDs in Physiology and Sports Sciences; Andy's PhD is in History; Sebastien ( whom, for some untold reason, they all call _Booker_ whenever they're not deliberately trying to get under his skin ) is on the Literature MA course, and Joe is on the History MA course, which is how he knows Andy as well as he does. Andy and Quynh are _together_ together, and have been for a couple of years, but the rest of them met at the international students' meeting and stuck together ever since ( Nico feels like he's been living under a rock since that meeting ).

“I have to go.” Nico tells the room regretfully after his phone alarm has startled them all. He stands, pleasantly surprised that Joe stands too, and their hands brush together as the empty bottle of Fanta he's been hanging onto is taken from his hands. “I'll come with you,” They both smile at each other, and Nico feels like his heart has expanded to at least twice its usual size, even as Joe says “I can take the bottles to the glass bin on the way.”

Surprisingly, Andy stands too, a little unsteady due to the sheer amount of drinking that's been going on this evening, but definitely steadier than some of the others. “We're meeting at 8 for breakfast tomorrow morning before classes start, if you want to join us.” It _feels_ like a major development in Nico's social life, and he happily accepts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is actually a drunk UNO game ( https://www.bestproducts.com/lifestyle/a31213209/drunk-uno-game/ ).   
> My mother sent a link to it to our family group chat as an idea for something to play over Christmas, and it seemed like something I could see the gang playing!
> 
> I'm aiming for Sunday updates for this fic, by the way. Still not sure how many chapters there will be, but there'll definitely be more!
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated :)


	3. A frankly alarming night.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pinnacle of life in university accommodation is, apparently, waking up to the screech of the fire alarm at ungodly hours in the morning.

The pinnacle of life in university accommodation is, apparently, waking up to the screech of the fire alarm at ungodly hours in the morning. Nico, startled awake the instant the screeching from above starts, rolls out of bed and has his phone in one hand in seconds, his other hand grasping blindly for the hoodie that is perpetually nearby in case he gets cold suddenly ( September temperatures in England tend to vary dramatically from day to day – perhaps even hour to hour - and Nico's been caught out more than once ).

As he becomes more _aware_ of things, scrambling to find shoes, he notices that it's still dark outside ( because... of course it is ). The alarm will turn out to be anything but a genuine fire ( Nico's guess is on the girl on the floor below, who has an apparent love for antisocially-early morning showers ), and that is _irritating_.

There's noise in the hallway outside, students already grumbling their way down the stairs, and Nico fully intends to join them – but he notices that Joe's door is still shut. When they'd had their first fire drill, they'd been instructed to leave the doors to their rooms open, to facilitate the fire wardens' jobs in searching for students left behind.

“Joe?” He calls over the screaming alarm that's _really_ starting to hurt his ears. “ _Joe?_ ”

Okay, so his conviction on how not genuine the the alarm is has evaporated completely ( is it getting hot in here, or is he having an anxiety attack? )

Nico's mind begins a rapid spiralling that it really probably shouldn't ( he's always had a thing for worrying about the _what if_ s of situations ). What if something's happened to Joe? Nobody _sleeps_ through an alarm this loud. He's hammering on the door with both hands curled into fists, yelling unknown things that might not even be words in an attempt to rouse his new friend.

There's nobody else left on their floor by now, everybody having evacuated outside.

He's going to be in so much trouble with the fire wardens for staying inside, but he can't bring himself to leave Joe in a potentially burning

Nico's heartbeat is thundering in his ears, his vision blurred as he continues to slam his fists over and over and over again.

“ _Yusuf!_ ”

Finally ( _finally!_ ) he door opens, and a barely-awake Joe blinks owlishly out at Nico, who has absolutely no hope of stopping himself from reaching out and grasping a handful of the shirt his fellow student had decided to sleep in, and _yanking_ the curly-haired male out into the hallway.

Joe's staring at him with those eyes that still scream of sleep, but his hand comes up to curl around the wrist attached to the hand that's gripping his shirt. Nico swallows hard, almost forgetting why they're standing in this position for a second.

_Almost_.

“We have to go outside. Now.”

His head is still a mess as he pulls Joe along, their hands somehow having linked themselves together.

“You two are supposed to be outside!” They run into one of the fire wardens coming up from the second floor, a security guard Nico is familiar with. He doesn't look all that friendly now, but the alarm's still going and the two of them _were_ still in a potentially burning building. He nods and apologises hurriedly before going back to leading Joe downstairs and outside, where the freezing air of dark-o'clock on an English September morning immediately slaps them both in the face.

“Joe! Nico! Over here!” Quynh is immediately waving them over to join the same group of students who'd been playing UNO the night before, the covers from her bed wound tight around her shoulders and Andy's. Booker and Lykon are standing behind them in the same sort of position, and with a little bit of looking, Nile's not far away either. Nico heads over, carefully making sure that Joe doesn't bump into anybody or vice versa.

When they level with the group, Joe leans his head against Nico's shoulder with a quiet groan and _stays there_ , leaving the Italian to field questions from the others. “What took you so long?” Andy wanted to know, her sharp eyes analysing every inch of the two of them. “Did you get caught in the middle of something?” The implication of that _something_ – and the strange light in Andy's eyes – is enough to make Nico flush scarlet, especially when Joe mumbles something into his shoulder.

Somehow, he finds that he has the strength to answer, despite his eternal mortification. “No, we weren't doing anything - we weren't even in the same room.” Her smirk tells him his protestation is perhaps too quick, but he powers through anyway. “Joe was still asleep, and I was trying to wake him up.” _That_ wipes the smile from her face; she glares at Joe's head over his shoulder, and shakes her head.

“ _Yusuf._ ” She snaps and Joe startles, finally awake as one hand grips Nico's hip, almost like he's being used as a human shield. He drops his hand to Joe's, squeezes slightly in sympathy – Andy's eyes are ablaze with _something_ , but before she can say anything else, the fire wardens are ushering the students back inside the building. “False alarm!”

“I could've told them that.” Booker mutters, Lykon laughing quietly beside him as everybody begins to try and squeeze through the narrow doorway to get back to bed. There are lots of disgruntled grumblings from the other students, most of them giving a girl with dripping wet hair dirty looks as they pass. She looks so unhappy – ready to cry, almost - that Nico's heart aches for her. “It could have happened to anyone.” Nico offers her as he and Joe draw level, and the girl's face loses just a little of its misery.

Joe's staring at him – he can feel his gaze on the side of his face – but neither of them say anything as they head upstairs side by side. It's only when they get to their floor that Joe clears his throat, drawing Nico's curious gaze sideways to meet those warm brown eyes that cause him to heat up inside as they pause outside their respective doors to talk. “Sorry you had to wait on me earlier.”

“It's okay.” Nico gives a genuine smile, watching as Joe's own face mirrors the expression. “Listen, do you want to hang out for a while? I mean- We're both awake now and it's too late to go back to bed, really. We could hang out until breakfast.” It sounds nice – maybe not as nice as going back to sleep might be, but nice enough that Nico doesn't feel sour about the early morning. They end up tucked into Joe's bed five minutes later, both of them sharing a thick blanket as they talk softly about some of Joe's sketches.

Despite intending to stay awake until breakfast, they fall asleep curled into each other, Nico's head on Joe's shoulder and Joe's cheek pressed against the top of his head --- and they stay like that until Joe's phone alarm goes off at half past seven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a real life experience! In the third week of living at university in my first year, our fire alarm went off because somebody had decided to shower at 3am on a Monday morning, and the girl in the room next door to mine ( who is, incidentally, my best friend to this day ) slept all the way through the alarm. 
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated :)


	4. Is it still a breakfast date if there are other people?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang head for breakfast. There's coffee, sandwiches and betrayal ( oh my! ).  
> Merrick, Kozak and Keane also appear in this chapter, but they don't stay long.
> 
> Trigger warning for discussion of blood tests, which starts at the asterisk ( * ) and continues until the end of the chapter!   
> I'll summarise the interaction in the chapter notes at the end, for those who don't want to read but do want to know how the chapter ends.

The two of them wake with a start, Joe's flailing arm smacking Nico in the face as he reaches to slap the alarm back into silence. “Shit- sorry-” Nico, dazed and disorientated, rolls off the bed and onto his feet, rubbing at his eyes to clear the gunk that had gathered in the corners. “It's fine, please-” They're talking over one another, both their voices thick with sleep as they watch each other. Idly, Nico wonders how it is that Joe can wake up to the alarm on his phone and not the fire alarm, but he's not about to pose that question aloud yet. He wants to live in the memory of falling sleep together for a while longer, warm and comfortable and peaceful – instead, his feet are getting cold and he needs to go and put fresh clothes on so that they can go for breakfast with the others without arousing suspicions or grossing anybody out ( privately, Nico thinks that he might 'forget' to add the shirt he'd slept in to his laundry pile, because it smells so nicely like Joe and he's never going to be ready to give that up ).

“I should go,” Nico says awkwardly. “I have to grab my textbooks and things for class.”

“Wait.” Joe's hand grips Nico's wrist a little too tightly as the Italian makes to leave. “Give me your phone number? It'll be easier and faster than sending facebook messages or posting notes under your door.” Nico gives his wrist an experimental tug and feels Joe's grip loosen a little in response – but not all the way. “At least wait until after breakfast.” He teases with a small smile, “I'll meet you out here in ten minutes, okay? Then we can walk together and I'll give you my number, I promise.”

They meet in the hallway eight minutes and forty-three seconds after Nico makes his _ten minute_ promise, both of them in fresh clothes with brushed teeth and matching smiles. Falling into step with each other, they walk side by side down the stairs, both of them comfortable in the quiet that settles between the sounds of their synchronised footsteps.

\-----

“You slept together on a tiny dorm bed?” Andy demands as she and Joe queue for the group's food in the university dining hall. She's still got that look in her eyes from the fire alarm, and he's half afraid that she might try to snap him in half for managing to sleep through it. “We didn't _sleep together_ –“ Joe protests, before actually thinking things through as his friend gives him a look of pure exasperation. “Okay, maybe we _did_ sleep together on my tiny bed, but it was _actual sleeping_ , Andy. Just sleeping.” It had been the best night Joe had spent in that room so far – he usually ends up sleeping on the floor in Booker's room, away from the eyes of the sketches that cover his walls and make him homesick whenever he looks at them ( and yet, he can't take them down because then he feels even worse ).

“I still can't believe you brought him back from the laundry like that.” She tells him, collecting a tray and a variety of fruit as Joe chooses seven pre-packaged sandwiches to add to the bundle. “He seemed lonely.” There's an answering sniff and a frankly offensive murmur of _don't forget the coffee_ ( when has he _ever_ forgotten to get the coffee for breakfast? Who even _forgets_ about coffee? ). “What did you want me to do, just leave him alone to be lonely on his own in his room all night?” He demands after that sniff, grabbing a small stack of paper cups, lids, milk pots and various packets of sugar.

“No... No, you're right. He's lonely.” There's the slightest crease of a frown between Andy's eyes as Joe stabs at the _coffee_ button of the hot drinks machine to begin the epic task of filling the seven cups with enough of the liquid to keep them awake until at least lunchtime. “He seems sweet.” Andy goes on, watching as Joe's face smooths itself out a little. His next press of the button isn't quite as violent as the previous – there might be hope for the coffee machine yet.

“He managed to survive drunk UNO sober last night, _and_ he theoretically risked his life to get me out of the building this morning.” Oh man, Joe's falling _hard_ already, no rhyme or reason to it at all – he's falling for a guy he barely knows, who's only staying at the university for a year. He must have lost his mind. “Yeah, well, he still needs to survive breakfast.” Andy's smiling, though, pushing shitty plastic lids onto the paper cups of coffee Joe passes her until they've got all seven safely onto the overloaded tray. “Go make sure he's not planning his escape without you there,” she urged as they approached the payment stand in the dining hall, “I've got this.”

The other five of their breakfast group have managed to snag two neighbouring round tables and have pushed them together so the seven of them can all sit in their cohort. Joe wanders over, a hand finding Nico's shoulder and squeezing by way of apology for allowing Andy to drag him away – though Nico seems to be alright, talking to Nile about the philosophical views of St. Augustine despite the early hour. The Italian glances up and smiles at the touch, completely missing the way the others are watching them as Joe sits beside him, caught in the dip in the middle of the two round tables ( he doesn't mind, despite the lack of table; it gives him more space for his legs ).

“ _Avez-vous oublié le café?_ ” Joe turns a mild glare onto Booker, who had been sitting quietly right up until he asked his question from the end of the table. “No, I didn't _forget the coffee_ – in what universe could I _possibly_ forget the coffee?” Throwing himself into the seat beside Nico, Joe scowls as the others ( _including_ Nico – traitor ) laugh at his indignation, folds his arms across his chest as Andy puts their food tray down in the middle of the group. “What are we laughing at?” She questions as she sits, the first to reach over and take what she wants from the food pile. “Booker's winding Joe up again.” Quynh tells her cheerfully, ducking under several hands to take a cup and a sandwich.

Nico is the last to claim his breakfast after a nudge from Joe, though it takes him a moment to even consider whether he _really_ wants to try eating the egg salad sandwich he's been left with this early, or if he should save it to eat in the break between his classes later ( he doesn't like eggs that much, especially not for breakfast. His mother always puts them in soup when he's ill, so he's come to associate them as sick food – the thought of eating the sandwich for breakfast turns his stomach ).

The coffee, though, is very welcome – he takes a long swallow and feels it curl nice and warm in his gut, matching the heat that having his side pressed against Joe's.

“Do you want to trade?” Nile asks, pointing to the sandwich packet to clarify when Nico frowns in askance. “I got chicken salad. If you don't like egg, we could trade.” _God bless Nile_. “You don't like chicken salad?” It's a seemingly innocuous thing, food likes and dislikes, but it can feel so important at the breakfast table. “We had chicken salad at my dad's funeral.” She tells him, her throat working around the statement for a second.

The others have fallen quiet, each of them watching him as if waiting for his reaction, as if waiting to judge him for what he's about to say next.

It's _a lot_ of pressure.

“I'm sorry, Nile.” Is all he feels that he can safely offer, holding his sandwich packet out with the tiniest smile. “It's okay. It's been a couple of years.” Their fingers brush as she takes it from him, pushing hers across the table for him – and he opens it as his stomach growls in anticipation. Taking a half out of the packet as the others return to their various conversations, he's still watching Nile from the corner of his eye when Joe's hand squeezes his knee gently. The touch distracts him, makes his eyes shoot to his neighbour's face, but anything that might come out of his mouth dies on his lips as Booker lets out a string of French that Nico is _pretty sure_ he wouldn't be able to repeat in polite company.

( He's _really_ going to have to get the Literature student to teach him some phrases before he returns home, if only so he can use them without his mother scolding him. )

“Shit, it's Merrick, Kozak and their _bodyguard friend_.” Nico supposes that they must be the trio approaching their table, because none of the other students entering the dining hall seem to have an aura of absolute menace surrounding them.

“ _Don't turn around_ -” Booker hisses desperately as Quynh twists in her seat to look, but before Andy can pose the question they all want to know the answer to, the menacing auras are standing on either side of Booker.

*

“Good morning, Sebastien.” The shorter man sounds like he comes from near London; his accent is clear, not blurred like some of the students Nico's come across in the first few weeks of classes. “Professor Copley told us that you and your group signed up for our blood test lab. We just wanted to remind you all that the lab is between two and four this afternoon, in room AG 52.” The woman on the other hand, has an eastern European accent, her cadence just a little off somehow as she speaks. The second man only stands silently behind them, smirking down at the group of international students.

The group are openly staring at Booker now, the French student shifting a little in his seat – and there's a definite tension coming from most angles round the tables ( Nico's too distracted with the puzzle of where Kozak comes from to offer anything much ). “We'll be there, don't worry.” Booker tells his coffee cup in a mumble, avoiding looking at any of his friends.

“Excellent. Every participant will receive a snack afterwards, of course, and an Amazon voucher.” Merrick and Kozak smile in tandem ( and why does Nico feel the need to examine those smiles for fangs all of a sudden? ) before they leave, heading for the coffee machine with their heads close together as they begin to discuss something quietly.

“ _Mon Dieu, espèce de bâtard. N'avez-vous pas pensé à demander d'abord?_ ” Joe blows out from behind gritted teeth, launching into an angry tirade of what must be French ( Nico knows enough French to have a basic conversation, but this is far too quick for his brain to process, too harsh and angry to keep up with ). It has Booker curling in on himself, especially when Andy joins in, her hands balled into fists on the table top, the knuckles bone white as she speaks ( and though she's quieter than Joe, she's no less angry ).

Nico exchanges a quick glance with Nile, who shrugs her ignorance with worried eyes, and catches Quynh's blank expression from the corner of his eye. It's uncertain if she understands what the others are saying, but it doesn't seem like she'll react either way, and she's definitely not going to translate for them if she understands.

Lykon is the next to join the conversation, his voice quieter than Joe and Andy's. It sounds like he's trying to smooth things over between them, his tone fluid and even, even if the French doesn't quite sound the same to Nico's ears as the French the other three are speaking. Joe huffs something out before he leans back in his seat again, Andy responding with less of an edge in her tone as Booker's fingers reflexively jerk and crush his paper cup.

“I hate blood tests,” Joe grinds out in English, “ _Why_ would you sign us up for that? Why would you sign us up for _anything_ Merrick and Kozak are doing?” With a shift, he and Nico are touching again, their shoulders, arms and legs pressed together in such a way that is causing Nico's brain to short out every couple of seconds, the desire to tangle his fingers into Joe's shirt and pull him close in order to press his face into the soft skin of his neck overwhelming.

“I'm _sorry_ -” Booker is upset – that fact is clear to all of them, even with the other distractions present for some of them. “Copley caught me after class, said they hadn't had an volunteers and I just- How was I supposed to look him in the eye and tell him I wouldn't do it?” Nico understands the struggle. Copley, the History professor, is pleasant and supportive and always ready to discuss any issues his students might have – even with those students he doesn't see all that often, like Nico, who only has one class ( general European history ) with him a week.

"Hello, pity party for one?" Joe gripes, ignoring the sharp _shush_ from Lykon to his right as Booker ducks his head a fraction lower. "Your table's ready for you to mope at." Andy slaps the table top with her hand after that, pointedly reminding them all that it's almost time they get going to their respective classes. Breakfast, it seems, is over and done with already.

Nico leans forward to offer Booker a small, tentative smile and a lifeline that might serve to also ease Joe's anger a little as they all begin to shove wrappers and paper cups back onto the tray ( and Andy pushes it over toward the Frenchman in a clear indication that he should be on trash duty for the group ). “I'll come too. Even if they won't test my blood, I can offer a hand to hold, if anybody needs one.” It's his attempt to ease some of the tension that's settled over the tables.

“I think Joe might take you up on that. Did he mention how much he hates blood tests?” Beside Nico, Joe chokes on a gulp of the last of his ( what _mu_ _st_ be cold – or at least room temperature ) coffee at Quynh's casual statement, Lykon pounding him between the shoulder blades a couple of times as he hacks and coughs, wiping his eyes when he can breathe again.

Nile's trying to smother her giggles, Lykon's smiling broadly, and Andy and Quynh are smirking at each other as Joe glares at them.

Even Booker looks amused as he returns Nico's earlier smile, and the Italian finally feels like he might actually have _friends_ here in England.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my notes, Merrick and Kozak are doing a PhD in Biology, and I have Keane down for Sports Sciences. 
> 
> To summarise the part of the chapter after the asterisk for those who didn't want to read;  
> \- Booker signed the group ( minus Nico ) up for Merrick and Kozak's lab project, which involves the blood test.  
> \- Copley's the History professor ( that means that Joe has his classes most often, being a History student, while Booker and Nicky have him for only one class a week for contextual/background history that helps with their subject areas - this is similar to what happened on my university course ).  
> \- Nico wants to check Merrick and Kozak for fangs when they smile ( ...they could be vampires, who knows? ).  
> \- Joe gets mad and rips Booker a new one in French, Andy joins in and Lykon tries to smooth things over between them ( I like the idea of Lykon and Booker as friends ).  
> \- Quynh might know French but she's not giving anything away.  
> \- Joe moves in his seat so his and Nico's shoulders, arms and legs are pressed together, and Nico's brain stops working ( Nico has the overwhelming desire to tangle his fingers into Joe's shirt and pull him close in order to press his face into the soft skin of his neck ).  
> \- Joe tells Booker that the table for his pity party for one is ready to mope at.  
> \- Andy's done with everything.  
> \- Nico tells Booker that he'll come along to the lab, and that he'll be a hand to hold if anybody needs him and Merrick & Kozak won't take him as part of their tests too.  
> \- Quynh says that Joe will probably take Nico up on his offer.  
> \- Joe chokes on his coffee.   
> \- Nico feels like the group might actually be his friends.
> 
> My French is limited to five years of high school teaching ( from which all I can remember is certain vocab words, ( whoops ), so I did use Google Translate. Please feel free to correct the sentences, and I'll edit the fic accordingly :)
> 
> Translations -  
> “Avez-vous oublié le café?” - "Did you forget the coffee?"  
> “Mon Dieu, espèce de bâtard. N'avez-vous pas pensé à demander d'abord?” - “My God, you bastard. Didn't you think about asking first?"
> 
> Comments are appreciated, as always!


	5. Vials and tribulations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang share pancakes and have their blood tested.
> 
> Trigger warnings for this chapter include blood, needles and all the misery that comes with blood tests. If you don't want to read that part, it starts at the asterisk ( * ) and continues until the end of the chapter. That part will be summarised at the end for those who don't wish to read, but DO want to be kept up-to-date on the shenanigans.
> 
> Chapter title credit goes to satan_cans_his_vegetables :)

The morning of classes drags. Having spent the last twelve-or-so hours with company, it feels strangely _lonely_ to suddenly be without. Joe's added him into the group chat though ( imaginatively titled _The Guards of House K_ ), and apparently everybody saved his number because he's been getting WhatsApp messages from everybody all morning – but he doesn't see them until he checks his phone when the professor decides that they need a ten minute break in the middle of their two hour philosophy block.

[ ??? ] +30XXXXXXXXX

It's Andy. Nile said you don't like eggs. If you tell me what you DO like, I can pick something else up tomorrow. It'll save you from having to swap with somebody.

[ Joe a-K ] +31XXXXXXXXX

added you to the group chat so you can come hang out if you want to (:

most of us are eating lunch together if you want to meet again after class?

sebastien won't be there, but the rest of us will be in the kitchen of the residence block

quynh promised andy pancakes

[ ??? ] +33XXXXXXXXX

im really sorry again

you dont have to come to the blood test thing if you dont want to

its probably better if you stay away from merrick and kozak anyway

im sorry about last night too

its booker by the way

sorry

[ ??? ] +1-XXX-XXX-XXXX

hey! It's nile :)))

you said last night that we could discuss the course? Is that still okay? i just got the outline for our first paper and it'd be great to have somebody to bounce ideas off

obviously i'll bring the coffee

you can definitely say no if you're busy or you don't want to

[ ??? ] +972XXXXXXX

It's Lykon

[ ??? ] +84XXXXXXX

Next time Joe doesn't wake up, just tell him his parents have come to visit.

Guaranteed to work every time.

Nico has to hold a hand in front of his mouth to cover his smile as he adds each of them into his phone contacts, a warm rush of _something_ shooting through his chest. He doesn't think he's ever had so many contacts in his phone before now – it's really only ever been his family's numbers populating that part of his life before now.

[ Nico ] +39XXXXXXXXX

Hi Andy, anything but egg is fine. Don't go to any extra effort for me, though. I can buy my own breakfast :)

[ Nico ] +39XXXXXXXXX

Thanks for that :)

Yes, I'll meet you in the kitchen after my class.

Are you still angry with Booker?  
Pancakes sound good :)

[ Nico ] +39XXXXXXXXX

Hi Booker, you don't need to apologise.  
Last night was fun, and I want to come and help out, if I can :)

How bad can Merrick and Kozak really be?

[ Nico ] +39XXXXXXXXX

Hi Nile!

Of course it's still okay to meet. Just name the place and time.

I'll buy the coffee next time, if you like.

[ Nico ] +39XXXXXXXXX

Hi Lykon :)

[ Nico ] +39XXXXXXXXX

Thanks Quynh, I might have to do that next time.

\-----

Lunch is quieter than breakfast, even with the steady stream of chatter from Nile and the teasing going on between Quynh and Andy. Joe's definitely still angry at Booker – Nico can see it in the tense line of his shoulders, the small downward quirk of his lips, even when their eyes meet for a moment – but there's something else lurking under the surface too. In a stunning display of kitchen nepotism, Andy gets the first pancake, but second pancake privilege goes to Joe. Quynh lingers for a moment, ruffling Joe's curls gently before she goes back to the pan, starting up a conversation about the upcoming reading week and what the group could do together.

Joe cuts the pancake in half and slips the bigger share onto Nico's plate smoothly, snagging the Nutella jar away from Andy ( and swatting her grasping hand away ) to scrape an unhealthy amount onto his plate. “There's a poetry jam in town at the weekend,” he begins, handing Nico the jar instead of giving it back to Andy ( Nico scrapes out a small amount hurriedly before offering it back across the table before an all-out assault can be launched ), “It'd be pretty great if we could all go down there together.” The others hum in agreement, already talking about getting dinner and drinks afterwards as the next pancake is given to Nile, who looks excited.

“Are you going to share one of _your_ pieces, Joe?” A look is shared across the table, Joe focusing on eating for a moment instead of answering – and when he _does_ acknowledge the question, the only answer he gives is a quick shrug before he turns to Lykon and strikes up a conversation about the university's football team. Nile catches Nico's eye and frowns a silent question, and like Joe, the only answer Nico has is a shrug. They've known each other for less than an entire day, and he's already fielding silent questions about Joe's well-being.

It's possibly the strangest experience he's had since landing in England so far.

\-----

*

They're separated in the lab. Nico volunteers to go first when the others hesitate, taking a deep breath as he sits opposite Merrick ( whose smile bears a startling resemblance to a shark's as he asks questions – some of which don't seem to have much to do with the test at hand ) to fill out the questionnaire and paperwork that'll precede the actual test.

It's Kozak who actually wields the needles though, and she's not gentle with them.

Having offered his non-dominant arm for the test, Nico winces as she stabs him for the third time ( she claimed not to be able to find a vein in either of his arms – Joe would later insist that he'd seen something akin to bloodlust in her eyes and fangs in her smile, but Nico thinks that she's probably just too used to taking blood that she forgets that there's an actual person who feels pain on the other end of her tubes and vials ). It's over and done with before too long though, and Kozak dismisses him to get a drink and a snack coolly as her eyes find her next victim.

He's just finishing up his tea, still holding onto his biscuit as he tries to talk Booker out of his misery, when Joe's name is called. He watches Joe stand on shaky legs, his face pale and his hands bunched into fists by his sides as he takes his first step – and then Nico is on his feet too, moving to Joe's side before he even realises what he's doing. “It's going to be okay,” he offers quietly when they're side-by-side, reaching out to squeeze Joe's shoulder, “you don't have to do this if it makes you feel so bad, Joe.”

“He's already filled out the paperwork.” Kozak snaps in their direction, looking impatient as she gestures to the chair that's all set up. There's a sharp response on the tip of Nico's tongue ( which is... unusual for him )that dies instantly as Joe lurches forward as if pulled on by an invisible string. He sits – something that Nico's grateful for, even if it puts him directly in Kozak's path – and closes his eyes, swallowing hard as he offers an arm.

Nico finds that he can't watch what follows, despite having suffered through the test himself earlier. It feels so _wrong_ to be witness to something that hurts Joe, like he should be protesting against anything that _dares_ to even _threaten_ Joe's health and happiness. Instead, he looks around for the others, noting where each of them is in the room as Kozak says something to Joe in a low voice – it appears that he's the last to be tested, since the others are staring back from where they're gathered around the snack table.

“Hey, good news,” Joe's slurred words bring Nico's attention right back to him as their hands find each other and clasp tightly, his face paling even further than it already had as dark liquid begins to fill the tube Kozak holds, “they said we're compatible.” It's so ridiculous that Nico can't help but snort a laugh, squeezing Joe's fingers comfortingly as he tries to reign himself back in. Joe looks somewhat offended, even in his current state – so much so that Nico has to school his expression into something more neutral. “I think what they told you is that we have the same blood type.” Nico corrects, giving Kozak a cold look as she makes Joe wince when changing the vials over ( maybe Joe has a point with his vampire references ).

“Talk to me when we're done here, and we'll talk about how compatible you think we are, Joe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I included WhatsApp messages in this chapter. I had to research international dialling codes, and I have NO clue as to the actual format for international mobile numbers, so feel free to comment with corrections for those. I'll gladly edit and correct! Also, having rewatched the 'Old Guard through history' segment on youtube, I have Lykon down as coming from Israel ( it's Netflix-canon that he was in Judea in 331 BC, so I still need to think of a plausible backstory for him! ).
> 
> \- Nico volunteers to go first.  
> \- Merrick may or may not be a shark, and his questions are questionable.  
> \- Kozak is not gentle with medical instruments,  
> \- Joe's theory about vampirism might just prove to be true ( spoiler alert; there will be no actual vampires in this fic ).  
> \- Nico gets tea and a biscuit, and sits with Booker for a bit.  
> \- Joe looks like he's going to pass out - Nico goes into support mode.  
> \- Paperwork means you can't back out of stuff. Ever.  
> \- Nico can't watch Joe in pain.   
> \- They're COMPATIBLE ( their blood types are the same, and should Kozak be observing doctor-patient confidentiality as a PhD candidate? ).  
> \- Kozak might be a vampire.  
> \- Nico invites Joe to talk about their compatibility in the next chapter. 
> 
> Comments are appreciated, as always! Thanks for reading :)


	6. Oh God, I think I'm falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the tests, the rest of Nico's week, a letter and a videocall. 
> 
> No trigger warnings that I can think of for this chapter :)

Kozak ends up bleeding Joe half-dry, seemingly fascinated by his 'super blood'. Joe, sickeningly pale and getting increasingly quieter, watches with blank eyes as Andy threatens the Bio PhD students with various things, Nico still squeezing his hand as tight as he can manage without crushing the bones in the warm, brown hand under his. Unsurprisingly, Kozak relents, barely blinking as Quynh joins in with her own threats at a wince that is elicited from their friend as the blond woman is a little too rough when freeing her equipment from Joe's arm.

“Nico, grab a bunch of cookies from the table, and a cup of tea.” Startled at being addressed so unexpectedly, Nico blinks one, twice, three times at Andy before his mind fully comprehends what she'd said to him. “Put four or five packets of sugar in it,” she continues, unfazed by his apparent lack of understanding. “It'll be disgusting, but it might make him feel better long enough to get back to his room.” Another second of blinking, and Andy begins to look impatient, but her hand is gentle as she reaches across to untangle theirs ( Joe makes a soft noise of protest as their fingers separate, and it drags Nico right back into the present ). “Nico, please. Tea.”

Nile's already filled one of the shitty paper cups with what they're passing off as tea, telling Nico quietly that she's dissolved five packets into the hot liquid already as he grasps it. Booker presses several biscuits ( the disgusting ones with raisins that bear the label _squashed fly_ on the packaging ) into his free hand, but his eyes slide past Nico and fix on Joe with an expression of concern and mournfulness. It chills Nico to the bone, and he doesn't linger with them when he has what he needs for Joe in his hands.

When he gets back to Joe's side, Andy has a supportive arm around his back, his shoulder tucked into her armpit as she speaks to him softly, her head close to his. Nico almost doesn't want to interrupt, but he presses the paper cup into Joe's hand, and unwraps a biscuit for him. “I hope you like raisins, because that's all they have,” he tries for a joking tone, but it falls a little flat as his heart gives an aching little squeeze, his fingers brushing Joe's as the snack passes between them. “Nobody likes raisins, Nico.” Joe answers, the ghost of a small smile on his lips even as he starts to nibble at the edges, anticipating Andy's _shut up about raisins and just eat it_.

“Do I have to eat them here?” Joe wants to know, his question directed at the oldest of their friendship group. “Can't we find somewhere else, away from the vampires and their pet hellhound?” Kozak's face twists into a sneer at the way she's being referred to, but Andy's laugh ( a little louder than it might usually be, but hey – she's aiming to make a point ) fills the spaces enough to drown out any thoughts of protesting. “Think you can walk out of here on your own two feet?” It's a challenge, if the look in Andy's eye is anything to go by, and one Joe feels he is _obliged_ to meet. “I can try, if it'll mean getting out of here faster?”

He's gotten some colour back in his face, at least, but Nico still takes the paper cup back as Joe pushes himself shakily onto his feet. Then, together as a unit ( including Booker ), they walk out of the lab to find somewhere more comfortable to recover ( Booker leaves them when they find a grouping of seats, and doesn't look back as he walks away ).

\-----

Nico and Joe don't see each other for the rest of the week.

It's a conscious decision on Nico's behalf, the distance, partially because his traitorous mind keeps replaying his _talk to me when we're done here, and we'll talk about how compatible you think we are, Joe_ line ( _why_ did he say such stupid things? How could they even hope to be compatible when Joe was funny and friendly and _perfect_ , and Nico was... well, the way he was? ), and partially because he doesn't want to impose on the group that had been formed before he'd been enveloped into their ranks. That doesn't stop his phone from vibrating every couple of seconds with messages from the group chat – and unlike some of his classmates, he doesn't just leave people on read. Nico responds to every single message that comes his way, but refuses the offer of spending time with the group as a whole with simple, polite excuses ( which involve his ever-growing pile of prep for his classes ).

He spends most of his free time with Booker, though the Frenchman tells him frequently that it's fine, things'll blow over soon and he ( Nico ) should be with the others instead. Nico brushes all the comments off with a small smile and stays anyway, pretending that he isn't desperate to see Joe again and doesn't see Booker cry after reading something on his phone.

He meets with Nile on Wednesday as promised, the two of them drinking coffee in the library in the afternoon because neither of them has a class ( apparently Wednesday afternoons are reserved for inter-departmental meetings ) and discussing potential sources and angles for Nile's paper for far longer than intended. Nico barely checks his phone until it's time to walk back to his accommodation, but there are several messages from Joe waiting, and each one makes his heart hurt more than the last.

[ Joe a-K ] +31XXXXXXXXX

sorry i said that we were compatible in the lab

it was really stupid and i wasn't in my right mind

please don't hate me nico

It takes a moment of internal debate, but he sends a response to put Joe's mind at ease.

[ Nico ] +39XXXXXXXXX

It wasn't stupid, Joe. You definitely weren't yourself in the lab.

How do you feel now?  
I could never hate you.

Nico sees Quynh and Lykon together as they exit one of the sports labs, but he's in a rush to get to his next class, so he can't offer more than a brief wave as they pass, even when Quynh calls after his retreating back ( he later finds out that Quynh was inviting him to watch Lykon's next football match with her - an invitation that she was kind enough to text him about very early the next morning ).

He's _ambushed_ by Andy on Friday morning – she's waiting for him when he exits his one history class ( taught by Professor Copley ) with an armful of paper handouts, her eyes glittering with the promise of something _awful_ if he doesn't follow her. So, because he's pretty big into self-preservation, he follows, hoping only that she's not going to lead him into one of the university's many stationery cupboards and murder him.

She doesn't.

Instead, she puts a packaged chicken sandwich on top of his paper stack and a take-out cup of coffee into his hand, and tells him to stop being such a _something_ he can't quite translate in his head – but he gets the gist. “I don't care how _busy_ you are, Nicolò,” she snaps, sounding scarily like his mother for a moment, as he opens his mouth to make his excuses as to why he hasn't joined them for meals all week, “you still have to _eat healthily_.”

He could argue, of course, that their accommodation block has a fully functioning kitchen on each floor _and_ that he can cook for himself if he wants to, but he suspects that she knows that he's been living off potato chips and a loaf of bread that gets slightly harder with every day that passes.

“I'll join you for dinner this evening, _and_ I'll make us all breakfast in the kitchen tomorrow, Andy. I promise. For _all_ of us.” It's a slightly desperate attempt at getting her off his back, but apparently it works – she smiles, patting his head as she tells him she'll message the group chat to tell everybody to meet tomorrow morning. He breathes a sigh of relief as she walks away, setting his pile of papers ( and the sandwich ) onto the nearest surface in order to shove everything into his rucksack for easier carrying.

\-----

[ Maria ] +39XXXXXXXXX

Did you get mama's letter yet?

[ Nico ] +39XXXXXXXXX

I didn't know she'd sent me anything.

So no.

[ Maria ] +39XXXXXXXXX

She sent a letter.

[ Nico ] +39XXXXXXXXX

Yes, I understood that when you asked 'did you get mama's letter yet?'

[ Maria ] +39XXXXXXXXX

Just read it and call her, Nico.

\-----

He bumps into Joe in the post room, the other student holding a hefty parcel and chatting happily with the pink-haired guy working behind the counter. Joe's face lights up when he spots Nico, and he waits until the Italian has collected the envelope that apparently contains his mother's letter ( privately, Nico thinks it holds his impending doom. That _must_ be why it feels like it weighs so much in his hands ) to start up a conversation as they exit the room together.

He forgets about the foreboding feeling starting in the bottom of his gut as they walk side by side back to their rooms.

\-----

They end up on Joe's bed again that evening, limbs tangled together as they share some of the snacks _Joe's_ mother had sent by overnight mail and video-calling the al-Kaysani family ( who are apparently not at all surprised or opposed to see another boy with Joe on his bed ). It doesn't surprise Nico _at all_ that Joe's parents are just as warm and friendly as their son, just as willing to include the stray Italian in their conversation and protesting when he offers to leave the room.

He's just taken a bite of _bjawia_ when Joe's mother asks him what he's planning on doing after his degree. Chewing and swallowing ( and shaking his head with a smile at her immediate apology ) gives him time to think on his answer, gives him time to steel his heart for the inevitable end of this new friendship ( he's quite certain that somebody like Joe isn't going to want to know him when he reveals the things he's been trying so hard not to think about since he'd entered the United Kingdom ).

“My father has links to the Vatican, and that's a big thing back home,” Nico begins, determinedly not looking at Joe as he speaks, ”my family has this... _reputation_ and there are things that are expected of me, as his son.” “My mother... she says that the church said that they'll take me on next year, when I'm done studying.”

“And is that what _you_ want to do, _azizti?_ ” Mrs. al-Kaysani asks, her soft brown eyes ( so much like Joe's ) concerned as they fix on her son's friend's face.

“No... No, I don't think so. I don't want to be anything like him, to be honest.” She says something that's lost under the rushing noises that take over Nico's hearing temporarily ( it's the first time he's said something like that – said something _against_ his father, who commands so much respect from his family and his community – aloud ) and it hits him like a ton of bricks. He flushes bright red, rubbing _hard_ at his face with a cold hand as Joe's mother makes a soft noise of sympathy, but it's the fingers that interlace with his that bring him back into the present, that anchor him to the here and now.

It's Joe's hand in his that makes him smile again, has him talking and laughing and joking with his friend's family for a full hour.

( They end up sleeping on the bed together again, Joe's arm curling around Nico's chest in the middle of the night to ensure that he _stays._ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not... loving this chapter, to be honest. It took me ages to write out and it's just not one of my favourites, but hey-ho. 
> 
> Also, squashed fly biscuits are the grossest biscuit, I'm prepared to debate with anybody who disagrees.
> 
> ( Also, Andy says 'cookies' because... I feel like this iteration of Andy has lived in a lot of places, many of which have adopted American-English as their English of choice. )
> 
> Thanks for sticking with this fic! Comments are appreciated as always :)


	7. It caught on in a flash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poetry jam & Halloween fun times!

They fall into a comfortable pattern.

Nico stops trying to avoid the others ( not that they let him ); he ends up spending most of his evenings in somebody else's room, ends up sleeping in Joe's room most nights. They rarely mean to let it happen, but they can't seem to stop talking about the most random subjects, tucked under blankets as they curl up beside each other.

The fire alarm goes off three more times in a week, and each time, Nico is able to wake Joe up enough to get out of the building in a decently short amount of time. Andy gives them both a look of fond exasperation when they emerge together the second time, but she _clearly_ approves of this new strategy ( she drapes a blanket over Joe as he attempts to fall asleep again against Nico's shoulder, just like the first time, and pats Nico's cheek before going back to huddle with Quynh ).

Reading week – their week off classes ( intended to catch up on the readings for their classes ) – comes faster than anticipated, bringing with it plunging temperatures and brown leaves that cascade downward on the wind whenever there's the slightest stirring of air. It's beautiful – he spends enough time walking around outside with Joe to be able to appreciate the colours and the dancing movement of the leaves – but it's also very undeniably _dead_ and that's something Nico can't reconcile with thoughts of beauty and Joe's poetic tangents in his brain.

The group made reading week plans before the lab ( Nico had mostly forgotten what had been said, though, so everything that happens will be a surprise ), so there's a whole host of activities scheduled for their seven days of freedom, and it starts with Joe's poetry jam on the Saturday evening. The seven of them ( Booker is, once again, part of the group even if Joe still won't talk to him properly ) make their way into town together, Andy and Quynh walking hand-in-hand a couple of meters in front, Booker and Lykon discussing a football game together behind them, and Nile, Nico and Joe chatting about various things as they bring up the rear.

The bar that's hosting the poetry jam is small, but cosy. There's a fireplace in one corner, and old couches sitting behind low coffee tables – it's the least bar-looking bar that Nico's experienced ( and... okay, maybe it's the _first_ bar Nico's ever been in, but it definitely doesn't look like the bars he's seen in movies ). Each of them buys something to drink before they all choose two couches to occupy, Booker ending up between Nico and Nile. Joe slips an arm around Nico's shoulders, pulling him in pointedly closer even as his eyes remain on the leader of the jam, who has stepped up to a microphone to introduce the jam.

Joe doesn't read anything ( much to Nile's disappointment ), but he _does_ get so visibly into the poems read that Nico spends most of the evening concentrating on the expression on his friend's face so closely, he might be trying to commit every detail to memory. Joe's practically _fizzing_ with energy when the seven of them spill out onto the cold, dark street when it's over, talking animatedly about the symbolism of liquids in the last piece that had been read – about how he could just _die_ with those words in his mind, his hands moving emphatically as he speaks.

Nico can't help but laugh with the others as a warm feeling of utter happiness fills him to the brim.

Like most good things in his life, his parents manage to ruin it all in seconds.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and too drunk on the atmosphere to feel the sense of foreboding that he might usually, he stops walking in order to answer. “ _Pronto_.” The others continue to walk after he waves them on, his mother's voice filling the cool evening air immediately and her face filling his screen. “ _Mamma_ -” He tries to interrupt her a couple of times, tries to stop her from talking to him about everybody else's lives at their church. The others have apparently decided on somewhere to eat; they're all hanging around the entrance of a shop that's advertising cheap fried chicken, watching him as his mother continues her tirade of gossip and tangents. He turns away, unable to bear the thought that they might be able to hear his mother from that distance ( at least, he thinks, they can't _understand_ her ).

“ _Mamma, can I call you later?_ ” He pleads when she stops for breath, “ _I'm out with some friends. I'll call you in an hour, please?_ ” She looks offended for a second, then squints at the screen, and he can tell what's coming before she even asks. “ _Out?_ ” His mother questions sharply, appearing to take her son and the backdrop behind him, “ _are you_ drinking, _Nicolò?_ ” _God help me._ Nico can see himself in the tiny thumbnail at the corner of his screen, and he supposes that his mother's assumption is reasonable enough; he's flushed pink, both with the cold and the pleasure of spending an evening ( pressed into Joe's side ) with good company – but even then, he's twenty-one and in a different country. He's of _legal drinking_ age the world over, and it prickles on his skin that his mother still feels the need to try and control him the way she does.

“ _No, mamma, I'm not drinking_. _We went to a poetry reading for my friend's classes, and now we're going to eat._ ” It seems to appease her a little, though she still looks incredibly suspicious – Nico looks desperately over his shoulder, half afraid that the others will have left him behind out of sheer impatience, but they're all still waiting. Joe tilts his head, silently asking if everything's alright as Nico's mother begins to speak again, and it's all Nico can do to shrug in response with the shoulder that's not attached to the arm that's holding his phone. “--- _said he can meet with you after Mass when you come home for the holidays. We can talk to him then about what you'll need to do to secure a position there._ ”

“ _Mamma, I don't want-_ ” To come home for the holidays? To come home at all? The freedom he's tasted is sweet on his tongue ( and if it happens to taste like Yusuf's mother's _bjawia_ , that's just a fortunate coincidence ), and he's not ready to think about giving it up to follow the path his parents have laid for him. He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence before he's interrupted again, his mother's face reddening with irritation. “ _Don't argue with me, Nicolò. We were very clear when you decided that you_ had _to study for your Master's degree in England, that you would join the church when you came home again. You agreed to it, Nicolò. You gave your word in church, before the eyes of God._ ”

Nico winces. He remembers making that promise, remembers feeling pressured into agreeing to his parents' plan, remembers feeling so lost and _alone_ in his repressed existence that joining the church sounded _appealing_. He'd had no real friends to consult with, and no desire to contradict his parents. But things were _different_ now; he no longer felt lost and alone, he had a group of friends with differing dreams and ideas, and they were helping him to realise his own.

All the air leaves his lungs as he realises that joining the church means he won't see any of them again ( he's never going to see _Joe_ again ). “ _Mamma, I'll call you back later_.” He hangs up, cuts her off in the middle of another statement, and resists the urge to throw his phone across the street. Instead, he slides it back into his pocket and tries to tell his lungs to pull their shit together ( they don't listen ) as he turns back toward the group. Colliding immediately with a solid body is... _unexpected_ , but the arms that curl around him to draw him into a tight embrace are welcomed; Nico leans his head against Joe's shoulder and tries to keep himself from falling apart.

( It's cruel, he thinks, to give somebody the tantalising taste of freedom before ripping their tongue from their mouth ).

They end up in the chicken place, all seven of them squished around a tiny table that was really only meant for two people to sit at. The guy who's frying things behind the counter doesn't seem to care, anyway. Nico picks at his kid's portion of chicken nuggets and fries, everything tasting like sawdust after the one-sided conversation with his mother ( and it's definitely unhealthy; the grease is turning his stomach dangerously ). Joe ends up eating the rest of it, Nico's head against his shoulder as his eyes watch Lykon fold one of the napkins into a four-petalled flower for Quynh ( she's utterly delighted with it, and demands to be shown again so she can make one herself. Lykon obliges as the others laugh, and even Nico can't help the small smile that touches his lips ).

He misses the look Joe and Andy share over his head, but the conversation soon turns to Halloween plans, and Nico finds himself more involved.

He has to confess that he has never celebrated Halloween before, and this apparently shocks the rest of the group beyond what might usually be considered as reasonable ( Quynh even falls off her chair in a frankly _overdramatic_ gasp, and has to be hauled back up by Andy ). Nico doesn't mind the dramatics because he doesn't feel _judged_ by them, and he likes hearing things about their backgrounds. Instead of asking a ton of awkward questions that have been fired his way many times in the past, they all begin excitedly talking about costumes and the Students Union party, the best candy they've ever received whilst trick-or-treating ( and also the _worst_ ).

This is how he discovers that it's _true_ that none of his friends like raisins ( Nico likes raisins, doesn't understand how they can be somebody's food phobia – but it's useful information to know for the future ).

He doesn't call his mother back, and nobody calls him either.

\-----

The rest of the week is filled with group trips to the surrounding areas. It's fun and chaotic and it ends far too soon, but there are about a thousand photos of the seven of them in various situations ( Nile later makes the photos into calendars for Christmas presents ).

\-----

Halloween rolls around, and Nico spends most of the day making sure that his classwork is up to date. He's unusually lonely; the others have all messaged the group chat at various points to say that they're busy, which is... _suspicious_ , but he lets it go because the December assignments are coming up and he can use the time to prepare.

A knock on his door comes a little after five in the afternoon, startling Nico from his studying.

“Trick or treat,” Joe's waiting on the other side of the door when Nico answers, wrapped head to toe in what looks like toilet paper and holding a tinfoil package that has very possibly come from his mother – which means that it _most definitely_ contains treats. Maybe this is the trick, though. “Listen,” Joe starts, putting the foil package on Nico's desk before turning back to face the Italian, “I've got a surprise for you”. A headband with a pair of paper cat ears glued to it is slipped onto Nico's head and Joe smiles before leaning in to kiss the very tip of his nose. “You're cute.”

Nico flushes bright red, the feeling of Joe's lips burnt into his skin.

Joe's also flushed, but it doesn't stop him from pulling a black marker from his pocket in order to draw whiskers and a black dot on Nico's nose. When their eyes finally meet again, they both share a small smile – and Nico, in a fit of absolute insanity, leans over to kiss Joe's cheek.

“Grab your pillowcase, and follow me.”

The seven of them are scattered between all four floors of their accommodation building – a university initiative, apparently, to make sure that their international students make connections outside of their typical groups ( or something ) – so it's not hard to work out where they're going when Joe leads Nico right down to the ground floor and knocks on Nile's door. “Trick or treat!” The door opens almost instantly, Nile standing there in a pointed witches hat, a black dress and stripy tights as she looks the pair of them up and down and up again. “Oh, my gosh, y'all are so _cute_.” She gives them both a couple of Kinder eggs, and Joe produces another foil package from somewhere under his toilet paper wrappings.

This pattern continues on the first floor with Booker ( who's wearing a skeleton sweater and gives them each a snack pack of Oreos. Nico notes with some measure of happiness that things seem better between Joe and Booker after their week of trips ), then Lykon ( who is dressed as a pirate and gives them each a packet of gummi bears – and he points out to Joe that his are vegan ). Quynh's room is the only room on the second floor and she answers the door in an elaborate pirate costume, spinning on the spot as Joe whistles long and low.

“Lykon's wearing his, right?” She checked, _beaming_ when the pair of them nod in tandem. “Good. We decided in our Nutrition class last Thursday that we'd pair up.” She drops two Snickers bars into Joe's pillowcase, and with a wicked grin, drops two tiny boxes of raisins into Nico's. “You can be the ship's cat,” she tells him cheerfully, and Nico finds himself agreeing as Joe explodes into raucous laughter, “we can be a trio then.”

Andy's door is propped open then they return to the third floor, the lights of the room turned off. The uncertain look Nico and Joe share tells the former that this isn't planned – Joe is genuinely as unnerved as Nico is in this moment, but he knocks lightly on the door and pushes gently to open. “Andy? Trick or treat?” He calls, hand scrabbling along the wall for the light switch. Flicking it on reveals a truly gruesome sight; Andy lies very still in the middle of the floor, covered in something dark red, her eyes half open. Nico falters, his hand automatically seeking Joe's to squeeze for reassurance that this isn't anything serious. “You've surpassed yourself, Andromache,” Joe says dryly, though his heart is beating just a little faster as he interlaces his fingers with Nico's.

Andy's lifeless face quirks into a smile as she sits up, eyeing the pair of them in utter amusement. “Should've seen your faces,” she crows, “you both looked like you were about to wet yourselves like children.”

“You don't want the package of _bjawia_ from my mother, then?” Joe asks casually, and Andy's expression morphs into something else entirely. She makes a grab for it, but it's pulled away before she can take it ( and Joe unlinks himself from Nico in the process ), Joe dancing just out of reach with a challenge in his eyes. “Hand over Nico's trick or treat stuff first, _then_ you can have this.”

The exchange is made safely, the package exchanging hands only after two Fudge bars dropped into Nico's waiting pillowcase ( Joe's receives two raisin-and-oat granola bars, much to his disgust ), and the others appearing shortly afterwards to drag the other three down to the Union to the University's Halloween party.

It's probably the best Halloween Nico thinks he'll ever experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The accommodation block trick or treat is something that actually happened in my first year at university. There were a hundred students in my block, and most of us had some kind of treat offering when people came knocking, and there was a big Halloween party, which was pretty cool!
> 
> Comments are appreciated, as always :)


	8. Sugar on your lips, salt on mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What even is cohesion? What is a schedule, if not inconvenience?

Without really talking about it, Nico and Joe become a couple.

Andy says it's too fast, that they don't know much about each other yet, but neither of them care that much ( she's happy for them, anyway ). They're constantly together – either alone or in their friendship group – constantly touching in one way or another, or sitting with their heads close together as they speak softly. Joe is the only person outside of Nico's family who knows the extent of his parents' plans for him, and Nico is the only person in their group to have witnessed Joe cry on the phone the night his mother told him that his father was in the hospital.

They might not know everything about the other, but they know _enough_.

November brings a feeling of finality to things; although they still have the best part of a year left together, each moment that slips away like sand through their fingers feels like a waste. The nights get colder and darker – the days are grey and just as cold, often accompanied by rain. Joe, who comes from the Netherlands, is better prepared for the cold, but Nico find himself frozen to the bone when he dares to venture out of their accommodation block ( Joe's mother sends him a matching hat, scarf and mittens that she'd made herself when Joe tells her – Nico's own mother sends him nothing ).

They spend more time with the group than ever; they eat together, spend hours in the library studying or writing papers together, they go on trips as a group on the weekends together. It's crazy, really, just how quickly Nico comes to think of them all as his family, but he embraces it fully and revels joyfully in the chaos.

\-----

He wakes up in Joe's bed again, their limbs tangled together and the corner of the covers grasped tightly in one fist, Joe's nose in the back of his neck, which is damp with his soft exhalations. It's still dark outside, but that doesn't mean much these days – it could be midnight or it could be seven in the morning – but a quick glance at the blinding light of his phone screen tells him it's just before six. With a sigh, he wriggles until Joe ( who sleeps on ) loosens his hold enough to allow Nico to roll over, to tuck his forehead into the warm strip of skin above the neck of the shirt Joe sleeps in.

It's easy enough to let himself drift back into a light doze in this position, comfortable and unpressured – the next time Nico opens his eyes, it's to the sound of their phone alarms going off in tandem. He turns them both off before running a fingertip down Joe's nose to rouse him gently. “Nnnn–” Maybe it's cruel to laugh at Joe's groan, but it's a constant in their mornings, just as it's a constant that Nico has to get up and go back to his own room to shower before their day really begins.

“Good morning,” The greeting is accompanied by a kiss to the tip of Joe's nose, and is rewarded with sleepy eyes that crack reluctantly open. “Morning,” Joe yawns, stretching with another groan before he returns to his original position, his arm tightening around Nico when the Italian begins to try and untangle himself from the knot they've created.

“Don't go,” Joe pleads, looking more awake with every movement Nico makes, but it does nothing to change the inevitable. It does, however, get him a consolation kiss before Nico manages to fully free himself, avoiding Joe's grasping fingers as he tries to grasp the hem of Nico's shirt in order to drag him back in. “Don't go back to sleep, and I'll see you in half an hour, alright? Maybe sooner, if you're ready.” They both know he won't be; he'll stay in bed for another twenty minutes before getting up in a panic, continuing their pattern unfailingly. With one last kiss to Joe's forehead – and one last dodge out of the reach of grabby hands – Nico makes his exit.

To nobody's surprise, the two of them are the last to meet the others for breakfast; the others have already claimed their spoils from the usual pile of sandwiches and coffee, leaving no option but to take what's been left by the others ( Nico is eternally grateful – as he always is – to find that there's still a chicken sandwich. He snags it as he sits down, Joe passing him one of the two lukewarm cups immediately afterwards ).

“Did you see that email from Copley?” Booker asks the pair of them from across the table, where he's sat with his arm flung casually across the back of Lykon's seat. At the blank stares from both Joe and Nico, he rolls his eyes and leans forward, a smile starting on his lips as he shares his information, “There's going to be a field trip to Whitby Abbey next week, and it's open for all his MA students. That means the three of us can go and work together on whatever project he sets. It'll be great.” It sounds good – Nico has to smile at the thought of a whole day with Joe and Booker ( and potentially Andy, Quynh and Lykon too, since there's some conspiratorial whisperings from that end of the table ) but it fades somewhat when he glances across the table to find Nile frowning down at her coffee cup.

He wonders why she's upset. She's been doing so well in her classes – he's discussed her ideas with her extensively in the library, argued viewpoints and opinions with her for hours on end – she's always telling him how much she loves her classes and her lecturers, so why would she be upset? He's about to ask her ( he has a half-formed theory already, just wants to check ) but just as he opens his mouth, she pushes back from the table and mutters something about being late for a meeting before she dashes off.

Her exit sparks the slow exodus of the rest of them, the group separating to head to their different classes ( Joe pulls Nico back by the strap of his rucksack to kiss him goodbye with a grin before they split, leaving him to wander dizzy and flushed up to the second floor of the teaching building ).

\-----

Nico's first class of the day is with Copley, who spends the first half hour discussing the field trip – which, as it turns out, is intended as a way to break the students out of constant studying for a day right before their paper deadlines, rather than for any actual serious _educational_ purposes ( Nico and his classmates aren't complaining ). They all sign up – and why wouldn't they? It's a day away from the university with free transport there and back. Sure, there'll be a group project to do on the day, but they have Copley's assurance that it's not going to be anything strenuous, so the class is filled with an extra layer of cheerfulness as they discuss various aspects of medieval religions.

\-----

Joe's waiting for him when Copley lets them go after assuring that they've all signed up for the outing, all easy smile and warm words of greeting as the two of them come together. Not for the first time, Nico is stuck by just how _easy_ being with Joe really is – it's as instinctive and natural as breathing, something he doesn't need to think about that often ( and when he does, things stutter into a brief state of discord in his head ).

They bump their foreheads together lightly in greeting before Joe reaches to take Nico's hand, lacing their fingers together as they kiss, ignoring the hubbub of the other students who stream around them. “How was class?” They start to walk toward the stairwell, their hands still intertwined, their shoulders bumping lightly together with every step. “Pretty good,” Joe smiles in answer, “we were getting ideas for our individual projects together – remember, I told you? The presentation on the impact of a chosen aspect of the fifteenth century?” Remember? Nico had _dreamed_ of Joe's presentation for the last couple of nights, woken up in a cold sweat because there had been only alternating inspiration and panic over this project. He refrained from saying as such, choosing to nod encouragingly instead, “Does this mean you've found your aspect?” Fingers crossed, because Joe's stress is just as infectious as his other emotions. “I think I'm going to look at the growing literacy levels in Europe in that time period. I think I can make something interesting -looking to present the topic too.”

It's a sunny day in November, a rare phenomena that has Joe and Nico heading outside to make the most of it – though it's still cold enough to require being bundled up in all the layers they possess. They find an empty bench outside in the quad area, and sit tucked in close together, Nico's head on Joe's shoulder.

“Joe?” Nico ventures after a few moments of comfortable silence, and is rewarded with a quiet hum as an invitation to continue. “Nile's upset.” Another hum from above, this one shot through with a note of concern. Joe shifts, slipping an arm around Nico's waist to keep him close when the Italian raises his head. “You think she wants to come on the field trip with us?” It was certainly a possibility – it had been the topic of conversation over breakfast, after all. “Maybe,” Nico sounds uncertain as he huddles a little deeper into his thick coat.

“Why would not going on the field trip upset her?” Joe asks, huffing out a little cloud of breath as he shivers, “It's not like her course doesn't have opportunities for days out, is it?” There are plenty of old Christian ruins near the university, and he knows for a fact that Nile's course group has already been out to one or two of them. “Maybe it's because she'd be on her own,” Nico's gaze strays to the door back inside, back into the warmth, “the others were all talking about coming too, weren't they? She'd be the only one left here all day.” He'd be pretty sad to be abandoned like that too, left without a second thought.

“Copley's reasonable,” Joe pulls both of them up, unable to bear the cold much longer, and gives Nico a smile of reassurance as they head back inside, “I bet if she sends him an email requesting to join the trip, he'll let her come too. Provided it doesn't clash with exams or anything.” The warmth of inside makes things feel a little better and a little clearer too; Nico resolves to catch Nile at dinner and encourage her to send Copley an email, because the only thing better than the prospect of a fun field trip is a field trip with your _entire_ friendship group.

( He tells her, later, and watches as her eyes light up like Christmas lights. )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a week late - I just didn't have the writing spoons in my possession, so this chapter is... the product of two weeks of struggling to write.
> 
> Also, Whitby is an amazing place in Yorkshire ( England ). It's the town Dracula sailed into in Bram Stoker's novel, and... yeah, it's just amazing. I love it so much. I highly encourage a visit, when possible!
> 
> Comments, as always, are very much appreciated :) Thank you so much to those people who have already sent messages and encouragement and kudos, it really means a lot to me that you all are enjoying this fic :))) <3


	9. Walking the cliff edge is a thrill, but you'd better watch your step.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Field trip time!

Whitby is freezing, but Nico barely notices.

Across all three of their chosen departments – Religion, History and Literature – they are sixteen students ( the university is small, and their Sports Science program is the biggest draw at an MA level. The humanities tend to suffer, but smaller classes mean better teaching standards and more opportunities, so nobody really complains ).

Nile makes seventeen, and she'd managed to sweet-talk Copley into signing a note to excuse her from classes for the day for _academic purposes_ ( her professor had been more than happy to let her go, since she's ahead of their course material thanks to the constant conversations she's been having with Nico ).

They meet beside the bus at seven in the morning, all of them bundled up and shivering, grumbling as they wait for Copley and the bus driver to arrive and unlock the bus.

Booker snags a double seat on the left side when the two men finally appear, pulling Nile in to sit beside him as Joe does the same to the double seat behind them – except he guides Nico into the seat next to the window before he drops in to join him with an easy grin. Out of the window, Nico spies Andy talking to Copley as she leans casually against her car. She spots him watching from the bus and wiggles her fingers in his direction with a slight smile, giving Copley a short nod a second after and moving to get into the driver's seat. Copley gives Nico a smile too, entering the minibus a moment later, “Right, guys. Are we ready to go?” There's a chorus of _yes_ from the students on the bus, each of them looking just as eager as the next to get going.

It takes them roughly two hours to get to Whitby, Nico dozing against Joe's shoulder as his friends chat together and with the others around them. They'd started the previous night together in Joe's bed, as per their pattern, but Nico had retreated to his own room just after two hours of being curled up together. Joe hadn't questioned it, and Nico hadn't offered an excuse – not that one was needed – but it was clear that their night apart hadn't been the most conducive to rest.

Joe wakes him gently with a hand rubbing his arm as they draw close to RAF Fylingdales, the odd shape of the building stark against the sunny November sky. Nico blinks himself back into consciousness and sits straighter, looking absolutely baffled for a microsecond. “We're almost here,” Joe supplies, even as the sight of the sea and the Abbey from the road sends an excited buzz through the bus – and Nico completely forgets his exhaustion in favour of gazing, enraptured, out of the window as the sea grows nearer and nearer.

It's not the same sea he knows from home, but it's a familiar enough sight to make his heart leap behind his ribs.

They park next to the train station, a steam engine waiting beside the platform behind the fence as Copley gives out packs with worksheets to the groups the students sort themselves into and sets out where they should meet later on. After that, they're allowed to disperse, the group of seven meeting to discuss their plan for the day. Andy, Quynh and Lykon are technically not under any obligation to complete the worksheets --- but that doesn't mean that Copley hasn't left them work to do too.

“We should do the museum first,” Andy suggests, examining her sheet against Quynh's, “That way we'll have more time for fun. I bet the others'll start with the fun, then crowd the museum this afternoon.” The others agree easily, setting off to head up the hundred and ninety-nine steps to the Abbey, where Quynh jumps onto Andy's back, Booker hops onto Lykon's back with the wildest whoop any of them have ever heard him release, and they're racing to the top.

“Some people's kids,” Joe shakes his head after them, but he's laughing just as much as the others. “You mean you don't want Nico to jump on your back so you can race after them?” Nile asks, patting Nico's arm when he makes a small noise to her left. “Nah. If he jumps on my back, how am I supposed to do this?” Joe asks, and immediately tangles his and Nico's fingers together before plonking a quick kiss on the cold tip of Nico's nose.

Nico looks, for a brief second, as if his brain is shorting out.

When he's managed to successfully reboot himself, he becomes aware that Joe's asking him something ( and he only knows that because of the intonation of the words ). “Sorry, what?” He asks, still sounding a little dazed to his own ears – and if Nile's answering laugh is anything to go by, he definitely doesn't sound like himself. Joe just smiles patiently, squeezing his fingers in reassurance. “I asked if you want to go after them, or if there's something you want to look at down here.”

 _Oh_. Nico glances upward, the others out of view thanks to the steep curve of the steps, and shakes his head. “Let's go before one of them decides to play on the edge of the cliff.” The three of them snort as one as they begin to climb the steps, Nile counting each and every one ( “just in case” - Nico would really like to know what that _just in case_ is, but he doesn't ask ) as they walk, despite the metal counters set periodically into the stone.

At the top, they find the others waiting for them, Andy and Quynh sat on top of a grave marker set into the wall beside the path, Booker examining the tall cross that stands close by the top of the steps, and Lykon nowhere to be found. “Did you have to take a break halfway up?” Andy teases, immediately hopping off the marker to mess with Joe's hair before he ducks away from the contact, involuntarily letting go of Nico's hand as he does so. “No! Nile was counting the steps, and we weren't _insane_ enough to race up to the top, is all. We were enjoying the view.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Quynh joins in with the teasing, coming up on Nico's side as Andy and Joe continue to wrestle with each other beside the graves. “Counting?” Nico asks, his eyes on the struggling pair as their breath mingles into clouds around them. “ _Enjoying the view_ ,” Quynh's lips curl upward as she clarifies, and Nico finds that her amusement is contagious; his own grin spreads across his face as easily as butter spreads on hot toast, and before he can quite rein himself back in, he's letting out a very Joe-esque _well, it_ is _a nice view_.

The twin bursts of delighted laughter from both Quynh and Nile draws the attention of Andy, allowing Joe to get the upper hand during her second of distraction ( it doesn't last long – he's barely managed to hook an arm around her waist before she's trapped him in a headlock ). “What's so funny?” She wants to know, looking between her girlfriend and Nico – but it's Nico who answers as he deftly moves in to rescue Joe from his current predicament ( it involves poking Andy in _exactly_ the right place – and he only knows where that place is because he'd watched Quynh and Lykon find it before ), “Enjoying the view.”

Joe straightens with a grin just for Nico, a slight flush starting on the apples of his cheeks as he drags a hand through his curls in an attempt to flatten them ( he only really succeeds in making them stick up even more wildly than they already had been ). “Where's Lykon?” Nile asks, successfully distracting the rest of the group from their current teasing. “He went over that way,” Quynh gestures in the vague direction of the nearby church, and the unconscious decision is made to move forward.

They barely make it five metres up the path before Lykon terrifies them all, jumping out from behind a tall gravestone with a scream of _“student loans!_ ” that startles all of them in their moment of woefully unpreparedness. Andy, sick of his crowing about how _scared_ she'd looked just for a brief second, threatens to push Lykon off the nearest cliff, her arms circling his waist as she attempts to corral him toward the grassy edge that overlooks the lighthouse, his maniacal cackling filling the cold air, which is thankfully empty of other people.

Things calm down a lot after that; another brief examination of their worksheets showing that the graveyard is actually part of Joe's history project and Booker's literature project for the day. Everybody pitches in to participate in Copley's treasure-hunt by searching for the oldest grave they can find, and for familiar names from _Dracula_. The oldest grave appears to be Booker's cross, which bears the date 680, but there's a hot debate between Joe, Booker and Lykon as to whether the cross is a memorial or a grave, and whether memorials even count as graves – the three of them bicker amongst themselves as they head up towards the Abbey.

It doesn't really occur to Nico that anything is really _amiss_ until a sudden wave of loneliness hits. It's been a while since he's felt like an outsider in the group, but walking on his own behind the rest of them, he feels alone in a way he hasn't since before the _Laundry-And-Uno-Incident_ ( as it's come to be referred to between the seven of them ).

At first, he thinks that he's become too used to having Joe next to him, too _dependent_ , too _addicted_ to his boyfriend's warming presence. He's in the middle of scolding himself for his apparent possessiveness ( and why can he hear his mother's voice ringing in his ears, an echo of the lecture she gave his five-year-old self when he didn't want to share his plastic centurion figures with his sister? ) when the realisation suddenly hits like a bolt of lightning from the heavens.

It's not Joe he's missing.

It's the lack of chatter he's missing.

It's the lack of questions and comments and general Nile-isms that is missing.

He makes a half-turn, eyes searching the graveyard for her, searching the path they've walked in case she's just stopped to take photos.

“Nile?” He calls, still turning turning turning.

Behind him, he can hear a murmured question as the group stops, but he's far too focused on where the youngest member of their group might have wandered off to to answer.

“ _Nile?_ ”

Nile, whom Nico had encouraged to ask Copley to let her come along too, has vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y i k e s.
> 
> I'm so sorry this update is two weeks late - I've been struggling to write this chapter for a while now because my confidence in my own writing took a serious dip.
> 
> But anyway - it's up now so I hope you enjoyed reading it? I already have the first hundred words or so of the next chapter written, so hopefully the next part goes smoother!
> 
> I might have taken some liberties with Whitby in November - I've never been in the winter, only ever in the summer when it's really tourist-y, so I apologise if any of those details are inaccurate. It really is an amazing town though, and I've spent hours in that church graveyard over the years, looking at the graves. There's some really interesting ones there!
> 
> The church at the top of the 199 steps is St. Mary's church, founded in 1100.
> 
> The cross Booker is examining by the steps is Caedmon's Cross – Caedmon ( AD. 657 – 684 ) was the earliest English poet whose name is known. He cared for the animals at the monastery at Whitby Abbey during the abbacy of St. Hilda, and apparently learned to compose poetry in a dream.
> 
> Comments are appreciated :) I do read them all, even if I don't respond very often!


	10. The weariest river and the sea.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me for being 8 days late with this update - life got in the way and my spoons just didn't exist :/

“Nile?”

Joe is almost immediately back by Nico's side, their hands joined as they call for their missing friend.

“She can't be far away,” Quynh says from behind them, “maybe she just found a cool grave and stopped to look at it.”

That seems more likely than anything Nico's mind is conjuring up, so he nods, still scanning their immediate environment with his eyes in an attempt to catch sight of Nile's jacket.

“Let's split up to search for her,” Joe suggests after a moment, sounding confident even as his eyes flicker between the group of friends. “Booker, you and me are going to search the front of the church and the cliff. Lykon, Quynh, you take the steps. Nico and Andy will look inside the church, just in case she's there.”

There are no arguments; the group splits into their pairs and heads to their designated zone.

The church is empty and silent when Nico and Andy enter, but they walk through just to make sure.

Nico gazes up at the tall pulpit as he breathes in the familiar smell, his hand running over the wooden edge of a pew. For the first time in a while ( since he'd started at the university, at least ), he finds himself praying without prudence, even with Andy nearby.

He prays that they'll find Nile quickly and safely, that she's alright and not hurt somewhere out of sight.

He prays until Andy comes up alongside him, waiting silently for him to be done before encouraging him to move on with a mutter of _do you really think that's going to help?_ under her breath.

Together, they check every corner of the church that's open to the public ( Andy checks the corners that _aren't_ open, Nico standing guard with growing anxiety until she reappears ), but to no avail.

\-----

They find Nile behind the church after another fifteen minutes of searching and a slightly panicked phone call to Copley.

Lykon is still on the phone with the professor, in fact, when Andy lets out a sudden noise of --- well, Nico isn't sure if it's anger, relief or some mix of something else. She shoots forward without warning, leaving the rest of them in her dust, and practically sprints to the area behind the church, which isn't all that visible to the rest of them ( they can't _all_ have Andy's eagle eyes, even if some of the rest of them have bat-like hearing or cat-like reflexes ).

When they catch up, she's sat on the cold hard ground, Nile crushed against her in a tight embrace ( it's possibly the most _un-Andy_ thing Nico can think of, but also the _most_ Andy thing he can imagine ).

“Why didn't you answer when we called? Why would you _do_ that to us?” Andy demands as the rest of the group piles in to join the hug, and Nile sniffs against her shoulder.

“I found this grave,” she says as she gestures to the stone as best she can. “Those people were born on the same day, they got _married_ on their birthday, and then they died on their birthday. I was thinking about them, and then I started thinking about my mom and dad, and then-” Her explanation cuts off as she pulls away from Andy and buries her face in her hands.

“ _Here lies the bodies of Francis Huntrodds and his wife Mary who were both born on the same day of the week month and year September ye 19th 1600 married on the day of their birth and after having had 12 children born to them died aged 80 years on the same day of the year they were born ye September 19th 1680 the one not above five hours before ye other._

 _Husband and wife that did 12 children bare, dyed the same day alike both aged were bout 80 years they lived did part (even on the marriage day) each tender heart so fit a match surely could never be both in their lives and in their deaths agree._ ”

“That's... creepy.” Booker comments, reading the whole inscription twice through.

“It's romantic,” Joe corrects, cheeks flushing as the group turns their eyes onto him with varying expressions. “They were _obviously_ soulmates. How else do you explain them being born on the exact same day and dying on the same day? The fact that they both lived to be double the average lifespan for the time?”

“Destiny,” Nico says quietly, and Joe gives him a smile ( Booker makes a vomiting noise, effectively drawing a smile out of Nile even as Quynh elbows him in the ribs ).

“God's plan.” Nile breaks in, her voice as quiet ( if not quieter ) than Nico's, and with a crack in the middle of it as they all look at her.

“ _God?”_ Andy snorts derisively, as she finally lets go of the BA student. “There is no _God_ , Nile, and even if there _was_ -” she continues without acknowledging Nico's _do you see where we_ are _right now?_ “--- he wouldn't waste his time on a concept as stupid as _soulmates_.”

Well, now the rest of them are staring at _her_ , their eyes wide with shock.

“You have no _right_ -” Nico begins, his tone tight and angry, but Andy's having none of it – not today. It could be the stress of having lost Nile for that brief amount of time, it could be her past experiences with those with religious beliefs, but she's _over_ God and all the myths surrounding him --- wasn't it good enough for him that she'd agreed to search the church with Nico, when she'd never usually even consider setting foot inside a church?

“ _You_ have no right,” she snaps back, ignoring Quynh's hand on her forearm for the moment. “When did you last go to church, Nico? When did you last say grace before we ate together? In all the time I've known you, I've never seen you even make the sign of the cross, so _you_ have _no right_ to tell me that I shouldn't say that God doesn't exist.”

There's a cold silence following that, Nico and Andy glaring daggers at one another until Booker breaks the momentary silence, his voice uneasy as he offers Nile a hand up. “Let's just go, guys. We still have a lot to do up here.”

The others stand too, Nico wrapping his arms around his middle as he takes a step back from the rest of the group, something unreadable in his eyes. “I'm going to do my work somewhere else,” he tells his shoes in a monotone as he turns back toward the steps, pausing his retreat only to allow Joe to catch up with him.

\-----

Things are understandably awkward after that.

Andy can barely _look_ at any of them after that, let alone talk to anybody without sounding like she was going to break a couple of teeth afterwards. Quynh does her best to keep the mood steady, keeping ahold of Andy's hand even when they finally enter the Abbey museum, almost as if she's wary of another argument sparking at the slightest provocation.

Booker goes between all of them, trying to distract with a mixture of questions and jokes that fall a little flat in the tense atmosphere.

Nile, meanwhile, trails miserably behind with Lykon's arm around her shoulders as he points things out to her. She can feel Andy glancing back at her every so often, checking to make sure she hasn't wandered off again like an errant toddler ( it's enough to cause a frisson of irritation, which is quickly tamped back down again when she remembers that she _did_ wander off in the first place – and inadvertently caused a fight between two of her friends ).

“It'll be alright.” Lykon tells her gently when they're looking at a display of old stone pieces – he smiles when she turns doubtful eyes on him, the expression warm and affectionate. “It _will_. I don't know Nico all that well yet, but Andy? She'll calm down soon, just let Quynh work a little magic on her first.”

However gentle Lykon is, however much she knows that this won't last long, Nile can't quite get rid of the crawling guilt that's causing the sick feeling in the bottom of her gut. She gives Lykon a tiny smile anyway, appreciative for the effort he's going to in an attempt to make her feel better, before she turns back to the stone pieces.

She can still feel Andy's eyes on the back of her neck, can feel that laser focus burning a hole in her skin, but she refuses to turn into it, chooses instead to pull out her phone and shoot Joe a quick text to ask after Nico.

The reply comes about a minute later, accompanied by a photo of the two of them on the beach – Nico's hair is ruffled by the wind coming off the sea and his face looks a little flushed, but he looks calmer than he had before walking away from the group. Nile sends a smiling emoji back, and something in her gut settles back down at the knowledge that Nico, at least, is calmer.

\-----

Despite everything, they meet back up for lunch, because eating together has become a group tradition that none of them are prepared to ignore.

They meet with Joe and Nico at the Silver Street Fisheries, which is a small cafe that's tucked away from the prying eyes of the ( practically non-existent ) November tourists. Sitting outside in November is nobody's first choice, but at least it means that the seven of them can all sit together around one table.

“We found a bunch of sea glass on the beach,” Joe tells Nile as they munch on chips and the best goddamn fish Nile's ever eaten ( Nico tells her later that it's the difference between fresh fish and frozen, that at home in Genoa, people rarely ate frozen fish if they could help it ), “ _so much_ , and in different colours too. I'll show you when we're done here, but I'm going to try and make something out of all the pieces we collected.”

“Can we go back? All of us?” Nile asks, her eyes alight with curiosity at the mention of this new creative project of Joe's, “I want to get some sea glass too.” Joe agrees readily, knocking his knee against Nico's under the table until the Italian makes a noise of agreement through a mouthful of chips.

There's nothing he'd rather do _less_ than spend another hour in the cold wind that the sea gives off, but if it's an hour in the company of his friends... well, he supposes he can deal with that ( even if he _is_ trying to conceal the fact that he's shivering under his jacket after their last beach visit ).

“We'll come too,” Quynh decides from the other end of the table, sharing a quick but silent conversation with Joe across their friends.

“Okay,” Joe shrugs easily enough – it might not be his fight, but he _is_ firmly on Nico's side of the argument over Andy's ( that doesn't mean that he's going to stop Quynh's _cunning plan_ to get Andy and Nico to sort their crap out though ).

( The beach is cold and wet and awkward, but Nico and Andy manage to talk to each other before they have to meet up with Copley and the rest of the class group. Joe and Nile come away with more than baggie of sea glass each, both of them chattering away about what exactly they might want to make with their spoils. )

( Booker ends up soaked and practically hypothermic, thanks to the unstoppable force that is Quynh and Lykon, who toss him into the ocean in retaliation for a stray handful of sand that ends up down the back of someone's shirt ).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not entirely sure where this whole thing is going, but I'm enjoying the chaos at the moment. 
> 
> Whitby is a real place - as are the places I've mentioned in the fic! The Silver Street Fisheries is absolutely my favourite place to eat there, and is 100% worth a visit if you're ever in that part of the world :)
> 
> Comments and criticisms are always appreciated :)


	11. Been havin' little trouble with God, though.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An incredibly late ( but obligatory ) Christmas / New Years chapter, split into two parts.

The month-long winter break rolls around in a flurry of grey days that bring snow that doesn't stick to the ground and a heap of assignments.

The Whitby Incident, as it's come to be known within the group, has been largely forgotten, but echoes of it can still be felt in Nico's silent moments, in the way he can't quite meet their eyes when they all sit together in their group, in the questions he asks Joe when they're curled into each other at night.

Joe soothes each question away with a kiss, a gentle reassurance that Nico is _not_ a hypocrite, that he can question his faith whenever he likes, that he can worship in his own way when he's ready to. He doesn't _have_ to attend church if he doesn't have the time, doesn't have to spend each moment of his life fixated on how the Bible says he should be living, doesn't have to say grace before eating or make the sign of a cross or live up to any of Andy's expectations if that's not how he feels.

Each time, Nico takes the reassurance with a discontented hum, thumb tracing over Joe's cheekbone as his eyes search for --- well, Joe's not really sure about what Nico's searching for, but he hopes that whatever it is, he provides whatever it is that the other student needs from him. He _hopes_ , but he can't quite move past the resigned look Nico wears, the shadows under his eyes that seem to grow darker with each passing day.

They still spend most of their time with the group, though; one of the friends books a group room in the library so they can all write their assignments together ( despite the initial doubts of various members of the group, it helps them all to meet – or succeed – their daily word count goals when Booker turns the writing process into a competition with a _chart_ and the promise of a prize for whoever finishes their assignment pile first ), one or more of them bringing snacks or cafeteria food to keep them all going.

Nile, surprisingly, is the one who finishes her first, and she wins a ticket to the Jorvik Centre in York ( a plan is made thereafter for the group to accompany her in the February reading week ) after Nico checks her quotations and sources for her.

As Christmas approaches, the accommodation block starts to empty out and plans are made.

Andy and Quynh plan to accompany Nile home to Chicago for the month-long break before splitting off to spend some time exploring Illinois, while Joe's invited Booker to his home for the break ( there was some drama with a girlfriend back in France, leaving their friend bereft for a while ). Nico will fly home, and Lykon will stay with a friend near London. The seven of them will be scattered for a month, but they each promise to message the group chat at least once a day, and video call for New Year's Eve.

Within only a couple of days, Joe and Nico are the only students left on their floor of the accommodation block, and they definitely make the most of it; they instigate a NERF war, shooting each other with the foam bullets and ambushing the others when somebody dares to venture up to the top floor to bring them some kind of news ( once, Joe purposefully messages an unsuspecting Booker to ask him to bring something up to them, citing an emergency situation, and the resulting attack leaves all three of them on the floor, breathless with giggles ).

Nico is the first one of the group to leave; his parents had paid for a return plane ticket out of the nearby airport, expecting him to leave as soon as possible and return as late as possible.

He doesn't sleep the night before his flight, an uneasy feeling in his gut that turns into a full-blown stomach ache keeping him awake, even with Joe's warm arm acting as an anchor. Finally, he gives up on even trying as the sliver of sky visible through a crack in the curtains reveals itself as sickly yellow – squirming out from Joe's grip, he dresses quickly and silently ( is this Joe's sweater, or his own? ), kissing his boyfriend back to sleep at the first sleepy murmur from the bed.

Then, with one last lingering look backward, he slips out of the room and heads for the university chapel for the second time since he'd arrived in England.

\-----

Andy offers to drive him to the airport in her old camper van so he doesn't have to call a taxi – an olive branch that Nico accepts with a grateful smile as the others all pile in too, a stiff, cold breeze blowing snow in after them. It's a squeeze, especially with Nico's case between the two long bench-seats that face each other in the back. Quynh, naturally, sits in the front seat beside Andy, leaving Nile and the guys to squabble over who sits where and who's foot is under one of the wheels of the case.

They finally settle with Nico, Nile and Lykon on one bench ( “to stop any last minute make-out sessions,” Nile cheerfully declares ), and Booker shoulder-to-shoulder with Joe on the other, the case on Joe's left side so that he can keep it from falling on anybody else's foot during the ride. The ride itself is surprisingly short – less than five minutes – but it's enough for Nico to pray for some kind of miracle to stop him from having to leave his friends behind.

It appears that God has been listening to him this morning; almost all of the departures boards show the word CANCELLED, echoes of frustration heard throughout the hall. “Oh, no!” Nile turns toward Nico with a face of horror, “Nico-” But Nico is _smiling_ , much to the puzzlement of the others --- _beaming_ , almost like he's just won the lottery. “Excuse me,” he murmurs with a duck of his head to hide his smile somewhat as he thumbs his way through his contacts list until he finds his mother's phone number.

It rings three times before she picks up, her _pronto, Nicolò_ sharp and demanding to his weary ear. “ _Mamma, it's me. My flight's been cancelled._ ” The news does not go down well; at first, her anger and disbelief burn hot against his eardrum, Joe's hands on his waist anchoring him as she rages. “ _What do you want me to do, Mamma?_ ” He dares to break in when she stops for breath, “ _Swim? I can't control the weather. This isn't my fault – there's nothing I can do about it!_ ”

He hangs up as she begins to squawk for his father, determined that the snow ( and the cancellations ) are a response of Nicolò's _godless study year_.

Turning into Joe, Nico's smile is still present but dimmer than it had been previously. He's very much aware of the others standing nearby, of other disgruntled would-have-been passengers milling around, but for the moment, his focus is entirely on _Joe_ and the strangely sad look in his boyfriend's eyes as the Italian tilts his head up for a quick kiss. “What's wrong?” Nico asks as they pull apart again, lifting a hand to cup Joe's cheek

“You're- What are you going to do?” Joe wants to know, “you can't stay in the accommodation block over Christmas, and you can't fly home. You're going to be all on your own with nowhere to stay.” _Oh_. Nico had completely forgotten that part of his flight being cancelled, the reminder like a punch to the gut as Joe's fingers grip at his hips. “I hate thinking about that, Nico. I hate thinking about you being _alone_ again.”

Just when Nico thinks his heart is about to shatter into tiny, sharp pieces, Booker's exasperated voice breaks through their little bubble; “He's not going to _be_ alone, you dramatic asshole.” The two lovers break apart, their faces mirrors of each other's shock as they turn their eyes to their almost-forgotten friends. “Take my train ticket and go to Joe's for the break.” Booker offers, cutting Nico's protests off with a hand on the Italian's shoulder and a look that cuts off whatever Joe's about to say to him, a laugh in his eyes as he speaks again; “trust me, Joe'll want you there more than me, and that's okay. He'd only pine after you the whole break anyway.”

This act of kindness is far more than either of them can bear; moving as one, they engulf their friend in a tangle of limbs, the other four joining them shortly after as they all talk over one another to find space for Booker to join them – but he decides, ultimately, to fly back to France as soon as he's able to in order to try and patch things up with this elusive girlfriend ( at least --- that's what he _tells_ them he's going to do ).

\-----

On the 20th of December, far too early in the morning, Nico and Joe are on their way to St. Pancras Station to catch the Eurostar to Amsterdam. The journey should take around eight hours, so both of them are relaxed in their seats as they watch a movie on Joe's phone, Nico's head on Joe's shoulder. Mrs. al-Kaysani had been _overjoyed_ when they'd called her to let her know the change of plans after the airport, and she'd insisted on trying to talk Booker into coming anyway but he'd refused with a smile, assuring her that he'd have a great time with Lykon and his friend.

They'd said their goodbyes to the others the evening previous, Andy pushing small, wrapped parcels into their cases before telling them _not_ to open the parcels until Christmas day on pain of death ( Joe had just laughed at that, telling Andy that as somebody who didn't celebrate Christmas, he didn't see why he should have to wait. She'd just threatened to take the parcel away again, if he couldn't follow a simple direction ).

“Can you reach the snacks?” Joe asks, breaking Nico out of his focused state with a tap to his knee. “Yeah, I can,” Nico stretches with a yawn that audibly cracks his jaw, “do you want your sandwich, or something else?” It's decided quickly that the sandwiches would make a better breakfast than a packet of candy, however tempted Joe might be, so they munch in silence for a while with their focus back on the movie as they sped toward London.

\-----

It's the first time Nico's ever been to the Netherlands, the first time he's ever really been to another country ( outside of England ) for any purpose other than to accompany his father to a church or a religious event. Joe moves confidently through the overwhelming crush of people at Amsterdam Centraal Station, his fingers tightly interlaced with Nico's as he guides them both toward the Metro station, buying tickets from a terminal before they board a train from the blue 52 line, travelling only two stops to Vijzelgracht before they're walking again, though thankfully it's not so far to Den Texstraat from the Metro stop. Joe leads Nico to a door about halfway down the street, the door flanked by two flowerpots that are sporting two plants with purple blooms, and uses a key to reveal the entrance way. “My family live upstairs,” he explains quietly, tilting his head toward the staircase to the left of the door, “can you manage with your case?”

Nico is feeling the exhaustion of travelling for so long in his bones, but he manages to haul his case up the narrow staircase by himself, Joe leading the way until they reach a landing with another door. Here, he knocks instead of using his key, toeing his shoes off and gesturing for Nico to do the same – there are other pairs outside the door too, and they lay their shoes next to each other neatly before the door opens, a squeal echoing through the narrow hallway.

“ _Yusuf!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- with thanks to ravynwitch for listening to me moan and letting me yell headcanons and things at them for ages.  
> \- andy's 'car' is an old vw camper van, painted by joe and furnished by quynh and nile.   
> \- any 'amsterdamn' typos slipped through the cracks of my spell-check – sorry!  
> \- also; i know absolutely nothing about amsterdam ( was planning to go there in 2020, but... ) so any corrections are gratefully received!   
> \- this chapter is unacceptably late, and all i can do is apologise.


	12. You were the brightest shade of sun I had ever seen.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of the Christmas/New Year chapters is finally here ( a whole month late - whoops ).
> 
> There's a brief mention of a panic attack in here, but it's over pretty quickly.
> 
> Nico is just... an anxious mess, but he's on a break from uni and he's with Joe and Joe's family for the month, so maybe he won't be such a mess next year?

It's dark when Nico wakes up, alone and sprawled out on top of the unfamiliar covers of an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. Sitting bolt upright, it takes a moment for his tired mind to catch up, to notice the sketches taped to the walls between posters and photographs, a framed text holding the pride of place above the best, Joe's full name in beautiful calligraphy at the bottom, and a first place ribbon pinned at the corner to be trapped in place by the glass.

Standing up is no mean feat; his legs don't seem to want to work properly, refusing to support his weight when pushes himself off the bed. There's a hooded sweatshirt with the name of a Dutch university emblazoned across the chest, which is currently draped artfully over a chair by the door, and Nico pulls it on over his head before exiting the bedroom to follow the sounds of voices speaking an unfamiliar language nearby, his hands tucked into the pockets of the sweater as he ventures through the apartment. Joe's family – or, those of the family who are present – are gathered in the kitchen, his mother cutting something into chunks at the counter, the girl who'd greeted them at the door ( Amina, Nico thinks, and Noor as her mirror image ) sitting with Joe and his father at the table, all of them laughing about something as Nico lingers in the doorway.

Joe's face is immediately – and impossibly – brighter than before as he quickly gets to his feet with a “hey, you're awake!” One of the girls makes a comment and the other giggles, Joe turning briefly to scowl at them both before turning back to Nico, his cheeks flushed as they meet each others' eyes. “How long was I asleep?” Nico asks quietly when Joe moves closer, too quietly for the others to hear because although he's technically met them all already ( the wonders of video-calling ), he doesn't want to be rude in somebody else's home. “A couple of hours. I figured you needed the rest after such a long journey.”

Joe's eyes ask if that was the right thing to do; Nico's kiss press of lips on lips says _yes, thank you_.

They break apart at the sound of a clearing throat, both of them flushing instantly scarlet as Joe's father stands to approach them, his face impassive. “So, you are Yusuf's distraction from his studies."

Nico's mind immediately begins a panicked spiral, Joe's laughed _Baba, stop!_ lost as the sound of blood rushing fills his ears. _Has_ he been distracting Joe from his studies?

_Are Joe's grades suffering because of him?_

“Nico?” He comes back to himself when cool hands press against his cheeks, wide eyes briefly meeting the gentle gaze of Joe's mother before they flick away again, guilt rising like bile in the back of his throat. He's sitting down at their kitchen table – _when did that happen?_ – fingernails biting harshly into the skin of his palms as he tries to uncurl his cramping fingers.

Joe, the twins and their father are gone, much to Nico's shame ( first he sleeps for hours on end, and now he's driving Joe's family out of their own kitchen. Has there ever been a worse guest? ). “Are you alright, _azizi?_ ” Mrs. al-Kaysani asks gently, her thumbs stroking along his cheekbones as she regards him with such warmth and concern.

“Yes. Yes, thank you, I'm alright.” He tries to return her smile and manages a small upward quirk of the very corners of his lips, though he's sure it doesn't reach his eyes at all despite her kindness ( his stomach is twisting in sickening knots quite distractingly, and now he's worrying about whether or not he's going to have to throw up ).

“Here's a glass of water, Nico,” Joe appears in the corner of Nico's eye, making him flinch with the suddenness of it, but the Italian turns his head toward his boyfriend like a sunflower turns toward the sun as Joe comes to stand beside him.

Mrs. al-Kaysani smiles, kissing Nico's forehead as she stands to return to chopping her vegetables, freeing up the chair she'd taken. It's immediately occupied by Joe, who tangles his fingers in Nico's hair and searches his pale face carefully. “Baba was just making a joke, he didn't mean anything – you know he likes you, right? You spent twenty minutes talking to him about why you both hate Venice just last month.”

“No, I _know_ , I like him too, I just-” how to best explain the worry that was constantly present when they spent a spate of evenings and weekends together. “ _Am_ I distracting you from your classes?” He asks, worrying at the inside of his cheek as he rubs his palms over his too-warm face. “As distracting as you are, Nico, my grades are still just fine.” Joe's arms curl around him tightly, drawing him in close until Nico's forehead is pressed against his clavicle, filling the Italian's senses with everything _Joe_.

“ _Just_ fine?” Nico asks despite their intertwined position, because he never could just stop himself from overthinking things. It's like pressing a bruise; he knows it will hurt, that he'll cause an ache by pushing a fingertip into the centre of it, but he can't _help_ it. He has to know, regardless of the little voice in the back of his head that wonders why he's choosing to do this now, when he's got nowhere to disappear to if things should go wrong.

“I can hear you overthinking,” Joe sounds more amused than anything, “stop worrying about something you don't need to.” The fingers in Nico's hair _tug_ , just harsh enough to cause a sting in pain, a shift in focus, Nico raising his head with a quiet grunt until they're looking each other right in the eyes. “I can't. I don't want you to hate me next year, if I really _have_ distracted you.”

“Nico-” Joe sighs, sending another lance of worry stabbing through Nico's too-exposed heart.

“Yusuf is doing very well,” the soft voice of Joe's mother breaks through their moment, startling them both into separating as she sets a pile of plates down in the middle of the table, “not well enough to avoid setting the table, however.”

\-----

Christmas Eve arrives swiftly, a light dusting of snow covering the world outside the window of Joe's room that only Nico was awake to witness while it was still falling. He's still awake now, lying on his side and facing the wall as Joe sleeps on and breathes gently in his ear – it hadn't been intentional to end up in the same bed, but Joe ( who had insisted on sleeping on the floor in his own room while Nico took the bed ) had gotten up to go to the bathroom whilst still mostly asleep at some point, and had crawled into the same bed as Nico when he'd come back.

He must drift off for a while, lulled to sleep by the warmth and the familiarity of the situation after the best parts of two months together, because the next thing he knows, he's jolting awake to the sounds of a giggle and Joe swearing a blue streak. “Are you two _sleeping together?_ ”

Mother of God, Nico wants to die.

“Get _out!_ “ Joe's voice _i_ s far too loud, his mouth still close to Nico's ear, “Noor, if you don't leave in the next _three seconds-!_ ”

“Mama!” Noor dashes away, giggling crazily as she leaves the door wide open, “Mama, Yusuf's in bed with Nico!”

Nico just groans, tugging the covers up and over his head, like he'll be able to smother himself if he stays under there for long enough.

\-----

“Do you want to go to church tonight?” The question pulls him up short, leaves him blinking in the snow as if Joe's physically slapped him. “What?” A curious buzzing fills his ears as he drops the warm hand he's been holding as they traverse the street of Joe's neighbourhood in order to collect some groceries for Mrs. al-Kaysani, his eyes hyper-focused on the curly-haired man as if searching for evidence of alien abduction.

“Midnight mass? There's a Catholic church not far from here – Our Lady Queen of Peace.” Joe continues in a rushed breath, not meeting his boyfriend's empty gaze as he shuffles some snow around with his feet. “If you wanted to go, I'd walk with you, wait. Or--- y'know, if you didn't want me to wait for you, I could go home and come back to walk you home after.”

There's a long silence between them as Nico struggles with himself, trying to work out if he wants to go to church or not this year. Nobody's forcing him, like they would at home – nobody's here to make the choice for him, and yet... He feels guilty for _not_ wanting to go.

“It was just an idea,” comes the mumbled defence when the silence stretches on for too long, Joe already turning away with his hands jammed into the pockets of his thick winter jacket. “Joe-” Nico rushes to catch up, almost slipping on a particularly slick patch of what _had_ been melting snow that's frozen back over again. “Thank you,” he pulls Joe to a stop again, holding onto his arm as tightly as he dares to, “it was a nice idea, I appreciate it, but... I'd rather stay with you tonight. It's my first holiday away from home – away from my _parents –_ and I'd really like to enjoy it with the guy I love instead of sitting in church.”

\-----

[ Andy ] +30XXXXXXXXX

You can open your presents now.

Merry Christmas, you filthy animals.

[ Joe a–K ] +31XXXXXXXXX

what is this monstrosity?

did you send me home with quynh's present?

andy???

andy

ANDROMACHE

i can see you opening the messages

[ Nico ] +39XXXXXXXXX

I don't know what you're complaining about, Joe.  
Didn't you tell me only yesterday that you wanted a pillow with Andy's face on it?

[ Joe a–K ] +31XXXXXXXXX

i think i said YOUR face, not andy's

why would I want andy's face on anything?

why couldn't i have something that matched nico's present?

nico stop laughing

traitor

this is why i don't celebrate christmas

[ Andy ] +30XXXXXXXXX

You're so ungrateful, al-Kaysani.

Couldn't just say thank you, could you?

It's the THOUGHT that counts, and this is what I THOUGHT about giving you.

[ Nico ] +39XXXXXXXXX

Mine's great, thanks, Andy :)

[ Andy ] +30XXXXXXXXX

Welcome, Nico.

Somebody better remember me when Mama al-Kaysani's giving out treat parcels.

[ Joe a–K ] +31XXXXXXXXX

very bold of you to assume that i'm going to save you ANYTHING my mama sends back with us

so very bold

also bold of nico to assume that i'm not about to sit on him if he doesn't stop laughing at me

locking yourself in the bathroom isn't going to save you nico

I CAN STILL HEAR YOU LAUGHING

NICOLÒ

\-----

[ Booker ] +33XXXXXXXXX

happy christmas nico

how's amsterdam?

\-----

[ Nile ] +1–XXX–XXX–XXXX

happy christmas, nico!

Hope you're having a good time at joe's!

\-----

[ Maria ] +39XXXXXXXXX

Buon Natale, Nicolò.  
I hope you're having a good time, wherever you are.  
Call me when you have a moment?

\-----

The very end of December comes around dizzyingly fast, the week after Christmas passing in a whirlwind of games and visitors from Joe's family and laughter until the early hours of the morning. The al-Kaysanis have managed to absorb Nico fully into their ranks, loosening him up after his initial anxieties at the start of the holidays and including him in practically everything that happens ( the only thing he excuses himself from is visiting their mosque with them, shyly telling Joe's father that he doesn't want to intrude on their worship, and will be perfectly fine browsing in a nearby bookstore ).

Joe's older siblings and their respective families live close by, so on the day of New Year's Eve, the apartment is filled with seventeen people and the noise is phenomenal. The oldest of Joe's nieces and nephews is eleven, the youngest two, so they're all swept up in the chaos that the seven children manage to bring with them in the shape of far too much energy. Catching his older sister's eye when she grimaces at just how loud everybody gets when they're trying to be heard over the kids, Joe loudly suggests a snowman-building competition on the rooftop terrace that's attached the the al-Kaysani's apartment, the children all agreeing with cheers as they dive for their coats and shoes before traipsing in a large group upstairs.

The four oldest kids – eleven year old Mehdi, nine year old twins Zahra and Meri, and eight year old Aziz – instantly club together and decide that Joe is their best chance of winning a competition based around the aesthetics of a snowman ( plus, they're old enough to be very conscious of the fact that Nico is _new_ amongst their ranks ). Five year old Nadja, on the other hand, cheerfully tells Nico ( through Joe's distracted translation services ) that she wants to build the biggest snowcat in the world, her six year old cousin ( Khalil ) complaining loudly about not being allowed onto the big kids' team.

It's absolute _chaos_ , and through it all, tiny Bilal clings to Nico with his mittened hands and wide eyes, rapidly going between trying to stuff handfuls of snow into his mouth and crying when his mouth gets too cold.

Somehow, despite the bickering and the _two_ attempts at sabotage from one of the teams ( more specifically, _one_ member of _one_ team ), they end up with a Christmas-card-perfect snowman and a snowcat that isn't quite as big as Nadja had hoped it to be ( which would have been impossible, since Joe told Nico that she wanted it to be as tall as the moon ) - but everybody is all smiles when Joe's father comes up to declare both teams winners and dole out candy as prizes.

Things quieten down about an hour after that, the bigger kids – including Joe's younger sisters, who had absolutely refused to join in with the snowmen – distracted with a movie as the youngest kids sleep in Joe's parents' bed, the rest of them gathered in the kitchen. Nico is curled up beside Joe at one end of the table, warm and content and letting most of the conversation and the easy atmosphere wash over him, thoughts of home lost somewhere at the back of his mind as he watches some kind of debate unfold between Joe's family.

They're just as noisy as the kids, really – so much like their friendship group at the university, and a thousand kilometres away from Nico's experience of home life – it's fun to watch them argue amongst themselves, to watch the way Joe's father's eyes burn with pride whenever his children make a point. There's no doubting the love and support that fills this household, and when Nico breaks in to back up something Joe says, he finds that Ibrahim's pride is focused on him too.

It's a nice feeling.

\-----

At five minutes to midnight, all the kids under fourteen are asleep in various places and positions, and the rest of the family are standing around the living room, listening to the countdown to midnight show on the tv as the last seconds of the year tick away. Joe tugs Nico to stand opposite him as the announcer calls the last thirty seconds, the numbers barely registering as they stand so close together, they're practically nose-to-nose, neither of them breathing as they star each other in the eye.

 _5-_ somebody comments on something Nico's Joe-drunk mind can't focus on.

 _4-_ somebody laughs in response, the sound a hundred kilometres away.

 _3-_ there's a _pop!_ outside the window as a firework goes off a couple of seconds too early.

 _2-_ Nico's lungs are burning, his head spinning in anticipation, and then-

 _1-_ Joe surges forward, fireworks and cheers erupting around the pair of them as their lips meet, sparks behind Nico's eyelids matching those from outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Nico's present from Andy is a hoodie that has the words 'If lost, return to Joe' on the back of it ( she gets a matching on with 'I'm Joe' on the back of it for Joe's birthday in January ).
> 
> \- I made Joe's family big and trying to keep track of them all is chaos, lemme tell you, so here is Joe's family;  
> Joe's dad ( Ibrahim, 58 )  
> Joe's mother ( Rania, 56 )  
> Joe's older brother ( Sami, 34 )  
>  Joe's sister-in-law ( Sanne, 33 )  
>  Their kids ( Mehdi, 11; Aziz, 8 & Nadja, 5 )  
> Joe's older sister ( Myriam, 30 )  
>  Joe's brother-in-law ( Faruk, 34 )  
>  Their kids ( Zahra & Meri, 9; Khalil – also referred to as the great snowman destroyer – , 6 & Bilal, 2 )  
> Joe ( 21 )  
> Joe's younger sisters ( Amina & Noor, 14 )
> 
> \- Everybody but the youngest four kids are speaking English because it made the most sense when I was writing this.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've ever dared to post! Comments are appreciated :)
> 
> The university I wrote about is an English university because that's the only university experience I've had.
> 
> The ERASMUS program (EuRopean Community Action Scheme for the Mobility of University Students) is an EU student exchange programme that promotes cultural, social, and academic exchanges between European students. Students can spend between three months to a year on a course at a university within the EU, and the points they obtain at the end of the period of study count toward their end grade at the university they attend in their home country. 
> 
> I applied to be a part of the ERASMUS program when I was at university, but I wasn't accepted, so I haven't actually had an international student experience. The experiences written about in this fic are, therefore, based on stories from international students I've met :)


End file.
